Cakerbee's Tumblr Drabbles
by singyourheartout287
Summary: A place for me to post all the drabbles I post on Tumblr, sharing them with my readers here who may not follow me on Tumblr and also keeping all my drabbles together in a sort of archive. They range from angst to fluff, silly to serious, short to long, and take place in every sort of Klaine universe there is. Always accepting prompts.
1. Come What May

Blaine was in the middle of history class, half-listening to Mr. Schue attempt to teach them about the Boston Tea Party when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. When he knew Mr. Schue wasn't paying attention, he slipped it out and read the text under his desk.

It was from Kurt.

_Watched Moulin Rouge with some friends today. I thought of you. I still consider it our song._

He almost dropped his phone. Sure, after Valentine's Day, things were looking better, but Kurt was clearly still reluctant to be with him again. As badly as Blaine wanted to get him back, as much as he wanted to make things right, Kurt was still holding back.

This was something different though. This was Kurt reaching out to him first. Before he could second guess himself, he raised his hand.

"Mr. Schue? May I go to the restroom?"

"Sure, Blaine," Mr. Schue said, gesturing to the bathroom pass hanging on the wall by the door.

Blaine grabbed the pass and hurried out the door and down the hall. He chose the most remote bathroom he could find, the one he knew no one ever used because the toilets leaked and the floor was always suspiciously sticky. He dialed Kurt's number and shakily held the phone to his ear.

Kurt picked up on the first ring. "_Hey."_

"Hey," Blaine sighed. "I got your text."

_"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sent it. Just friends and all."_

"No, it's fine."

They sat in silence for a moment, Blaine listening to Kurt's breathing, before Kurt spoke in a quiet voice. _"I was sitting there on the couch with Adam's head on my shoulder, and all I could think about was you. I saw it all, the whole scene of us singing it together. We were even wearing these great wedding tuxedos." _Blaine laughed softly at that. Even in fantasy, Kurt Hummel was dressed immaculately. _"It was a nice dream."_

"That can still be real, Kurt. That can still be us."

He could almost feel Kurt nodding through the phone before he heard the sigh. _"Right. Well, I better get back. I don't want to be rude."_

"Yeah, of course. I love you."

_"I love you too."_

The line clicked dead as Blaine's heart pounded in his chest. There was definitely still hope.


	2. Cooper, the Online Ordained Minister

"Please, Squirt?"

"I'm an engaged man, Coop, don't call me Squirt."

"I promise it's legit! I got the certificate in the mail a few weeks ago! It's from a website that ends in .org so you know it's real."

"Shouldn't you be huddled in a corner crying over the fact your little brother is getting married before you?"

Cooper's demeanor immediately changes. He drops his gaze to the floor and shuffles his feet. Kurt slaps Blaine on the arm.

"Ow!"

"That was mean, Blaine. I'm the wedding planner and I say if your older brother wants to marry us, he can."

Blaine groans. "He's just going to tell embarrassing stories about me and pretend he mixed up his cards for his best man speech and his marrying speech."

"No, it's fine, Kurt," Cooper says, looking up and offering a weak smile. "I just wanted to do something special for you guys, that's all. I get it, though. If Blaine just wants me to be in the background, that's fine. He's right. I don't know anything about weddings. Perpetual bachelor, right?" He offers a laugh but it's even more pitiful than his smile.

"Look at him," Kurt notes. "You're making him cry. Are you happy now?"

"I didn't mean to make him cry! God, Coop, you know I didn't mean that. I just—ugh, fine. Yes, you can marry us."

"If you don't really want me to, I don't want you to let me out of pity—"

"No, really. I want you to marry us. Please marry us."

"Only if you're sure—"

"I'm sure."

"Well…Okay, then."

Blaine rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room. The sullen expression falls from Cooper's face as he catches Kurt's eye and winks.

Kurt laughs. "Your acting has really improved since Blaine and I were in high school, Cooper."

"Thank you, Kurt. I look forward to accidentally mixing up my note cards and embarrassing your future husband at the altar."

"As do I. Just no sex stories, alright? Your goal is to embarrass Blaine, not me."

"We'll see."


	3. Scars

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #639: __During 4x14, Kurt sees Blaine's scars in the hotel room._

… … …

Kurt and Blaine collapsed against the pillows with a sigh, both sweaty and breathing heavily.

"That…may be the best sex we've ever had," Kurt said, panting as he rolled his head over to look at Blaine.

Blaine laughed dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"Wanna go again?" Kurt asked, rolling onto his side and propping his head up to look down at Blaine.

He traced his fingers down Blaine's chest, letting them walk and dance their way down to Blaine's hips. Kurt's gaze followed his hand's movements, and he stilled when his hand was hovering above Blaine's hipbone. His fingers flickered lower, to Blaine's upper thighs.

Blaine stopped breathing, knowing exactly what caught Kurt's attention. He waited for Kurt to look up at him.

"When did these get here?" Kurt whispered, hand hovering over Blaine's thigh, not quite touching. When Kurt finally looked up at him, Blaine could see the heartbreak written all over his face. It reminded Blaine of the night they broke up and he hated himself for doing this again. "Are these because of me? Because of our break up?"

"No," Blaine said gently. "They're because of me."

"How did I not notice these before?"

"I mean, we were a little busy."

Blaine smiled cheekily, but Kurt only fixed him with a sad glare. "This isn't funny, Blaine. You did this to yourself?"

Kurt's hand finally made contact, index and middle fingers tracing over the perfect rows of lines Blaine had made in his skin. Most of them were a light pink, almost white by now. There were columns of them, lined neatly next to each other. Kurt counted six lines per column.

"I haven't done it in months," Blaine told him. "My new year's resolution was to stop, per Sam's request."

"Sam knows about this?"

"We change together in the locker rooms. I usually wait until everyone is gone but he left his cell phone one day and when he came back for it he saw me in my underwear. They were still new at the time."

Kurt finally looked back up at Blaine, tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you hated me," Blaine answered simply.

"No." Kurt shook his head, He leaned up and kissed Blaine on the mouth, pulling back to trace Blaine's face gently with his fingertips. "I never hated you."

"But you were mad at me, and rightfully so. I cheated on you. I broke us, I broke the trust we'd worked together to build between us. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, and I've regretted it ever since."

"You don't deserve this either, Blaine. People make mistakes, they break up. That's life. But there was never a part of me that ever thought we were beyond saving. I've always had hope for us. I just needed time."

"And now?"

Kurt smiled sadly. "I still need time." He shimmied down the bed to kiss Blaine's scars. "But I like where we are now. I like us being friends. I think…that we're different people now, than we were before. And maybe we should take the time to get to know each other again. Before we first got together, it was infuriating for me that I liked you for so long and you were so oblivious. But it turned out to be a good thing, because it gave us a chance to form a real friendship and a good foundation for our relationship. I think we should try that again and see where it goes. Okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "Okay. I like that."

"Good."

They smiled at each other, and Kurt crawled back up the bed, hooking one leg over Blaine's hips and throwing an arm over Blaine's chest, resting his head in the space between Blaine's shoulder and collarbone.

Blaine raised a hand to pet Kurt's hair, lacing his fingers with the hand Kurt had thrown over his abdomen. It was nice, being able to be intimate and cuddle with Kurt again. And their talk gave him hope. Kurt's reception to Blaine's new coping mechanism was much better than Blaine could have predicted.

Maybe, for once, Blaine would be able to keep his new year's resolution.


	4. Oranges

_Silly drabble based on a conversation I had with a friend of mine. Blaine loves oranges, Kurt hates them, and they both love making out and teasing each other._

… … …

Lunch is one of Kurt's favourite times of the day. One, because food. Obviously. (And Dalton has amazing cheesecake—thank god for his dad sending him to an uppity private school). Two, because Blaine. They have a couple classes together, sure, but now that they're boyfriends, Kurt wants as much time as he can get with Blaine.

He goes through the line, filling his tray up with the food that is several steps above the slop he was served at McKinley and goes to sit next to Blaine at the Warbler table.

"Hey, you," Blaine says, nudging Kurt as he sits down.

Kurt smiles and says, "Hey."

Everyone around the table groans, which used to make Kurt embarrassed in the first month or so of their relationship, but now he loves that his relationship with Blaine is so solid they make people groan in disgust.

"All we did was greet each other!" Blaine says, laughing.

"You guys can't even greet each other like normal people," Trent says.

"Yeah," Wes adds, "it's all heart eyes and longing touches. It's disgusting. You just saw each other two hours ago!"

"Jealous, Wesley?" Kurt challenges, smirking.

Wes rolls his eyes. "Yeah right, Hummel."

The table resumes their conversation, but Kurt feels like he's in his own little world with Blaine. They tune out the table and start having their own conversation.

"How was French?" Blaine asks. "The boys still being rambunctious every time Madame Lou turns around?"

"Pretty much," Kurt says with a laugh, shaking his head. "How was Latin? Did you guys have to sweep away excavation dirt before opening the textbooks?"

"Ha-ha. It's a dead language, very funny. When did you get so clever?"

"I was always this clever, you just haven't been quick enough to pick up on my jokes."

"Ouch!"

Blaine pulls back and puts a hand to his chest like he's wounded, but they're both laughing. Kurt loves this about them. Their banter, the easy way they can tease each other. He was worried that being in a relationship would change the way they were as best friends, but that wasn't the case. They just fell into another level of their relationship, adding a subtle intimacy that wasn't there before.

And physical intimacy, too. Which was always nice. After his disastrous dalliance with Brittany, Kurt didn't think making out was very fun. Then there was Karofsky, who took away any appeal kissing may have had for Kurt. But now with Blaine, kissing had quickly become Kurt's favourite activity.

Kurt shakes away thoughts of making out with Blaine and snaps back to attention to see his boyfriend peeling an orange beside him.

"Ew."

Blaine looks up, frowning. "What?"

"Why are you eating an orange?"

"Are you kidding? I love oranges! They're delicious. And they're good for you."

Kurt spears a couple green beans on his fork and shakes his head. "They're gross."

"Since when do you hate oranges?"

"Since the smell reminds me of cleaning supplies in public bathrooms."

Blaine drops the orange and gives Kurt a look. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome," Kurt says, smirking.

"I'm going to eat it anyway, just because."

"Fine, but I won't kiss you."

"What?!"

"I'm not going to kiss you when you taste like oranges, Blaine," Kurt says, shaking his head. "It's gross. It would be like drinking orange-scented Pine-Sol."

"I resent that."

"Go right ahead."

Blaine continues peeling his orange, dropping the pieces onto his tray. "Fine. Don't make out with me. But you'll be missing out, because you don't get to make out with me and I get a delicious snack."

"But you don't get to make out with me, and I don't have to taste oranges," Kurt says, laughing. "I think you lose."

Blaine pauses, then concludes, "It's a draw."

"It would appear so," Kurt agrees.

They fall into a silence, and Kurt thinks how much he loves these silly non-fights.

"Okay, fine. I won't eat oranges before I make out with you."

"Then I'll still make out with you."

"As if you didn't want to."

Kurt pauses, looking at Blaine. They both stare at each other for a minute before smiling. Kurt eyes the orange that Blaine has put back down on his tray, uneaten.

"How much time left in lunch?" Kurt asks.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Want to go back to my room?"

"Mine's closer."

They stand up at the same time, laughing as the boys at their table cat-call after them. Kurt doesn't care, really. He doesn't care if the table knows what they're up to, or the whole cafeteria, or the whole school. Let the whole world know how much he loves kissing his boyfriend.

He's finally free to be in a relationship and be happy, and he loves every second of it.


	5. Afternoon Nap

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #731: Blaine is napping on the couch in the loft one evening when without him realising, his shirt rides up, revealing self-harm on his stomach/hips where he thought it'd be hidden. Only Kurt knew, but now Rachel, Santana, Elliott, Sam etc. have all seen._

… … …

It had been an exhausting day, really and truly. And for Blaine Anderson to say he was tired was really something, because he was always up and about and ready to tackle new projects or join new clubs. But after two Cassie July dance classes, two acting intensive classes (one of which required him to sit in a silent room with his classmates and cry for thirty minutes), and his one core requirement credit of history, Blaine was ready to fall onto the couch and pass out.

So he did.

He made the trip back to the loft, happy to see that it was currently empty, and dumped his backpack by the door. He considered going into his and Kurt's bedroom and falling asleep cuddling Kurt's pillow, but the distance seemed too great in his sleepy state, so he collapsed onto the couch. He grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around himself, smacking his lips a few times before dozing off.

Usually, it was door slamming or yelling or blaring TV or music that woke Blaine up from his naps in the loft. Today, it was a collective gasp.

Blaine blearily opened his eyes to find Santana, Elliott, Rachel, Sam, and Kurt all standing around him. Kurt looked worried and sympathetic while the others looked uncomfortable and a little shocked.

"What?" Blaine asked, confused. "What is it? What happened?"

"That's what we'd like to know," Santana said, pointing directly to Blaine's stomach.

Blaine looked down, confused, until his sleep-fogged mind clicked into place. The blanket he'd been using was on the floor and his shirt had ridden up in his sleep, leaving the multiple scars he'd slashed on his stomach on display for everyone. He quickly tugged his shirt back down and sat up.

"I don't really think that's any of your business," he said brusquely, standing and going back into his and Kurt's partitioned room.

Blaine stood facing the wall, trying to calm his breathing and not freak out too much. He didn't need to turn around to know that Kurt had followed him in. The moment Blaine felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned around and fell into Kurt's arms, resting his forehead on Kurt's shoulder.

"This is a nightmare," Blaine moaned.

Kurt rubbed a hand up and down Blaine's back. "Hey, it's okay. They're just concerned, babe. They didn't know."

"Why were you all standing around me anyway?"

"We were having a stupid debate over nothing on the way home from the diner and wanted you to weigh in."

"What was it about?"

"It's not important." Kurt continued rubbing soothing circles on Blaine's back, using his other hand to play with the loose curls at the back of Blaine's neck. "It's going to be okay. You don't owe them any explanation."

Blaine pulled back a little, shaking his head and meeting Kurt's eye. "I kind of do. They've seen all my scars now; it's not exactly something I can just brush off. Maybe if there were more of them, or they looked different, but there's no way these scars could look like anything but what they are."

He lifted his shirt up and looked down at the scars littering the bottom of his torso. There were close to a hundred, all small and only about an inch or two long. Some crisscrossed and others ran parallel to each other. No matter how you looked at them, though, they were self-harm scars, and that was obvious.

"Do you want to take some time? We can just lay in here for a while. Or we could talk about it?"

"We've talked about it plenty, you and me, don't you think?" Blaine asked.

Kurt met Blaine's eyes and smiled sadly, running his hands up and down Blaine's arms. "Yeah, we have. And you're still doing okay, right? Would talking to them about it make you vulnerable? I don't want you talking to them if it's going to make you relapse."

"It won't. I'm in a good place now. I should be fine."

Kurt seemed hesitant, but nodded. "Okay. If you're sure."

Blaine laced his fingers together with Kurt's and brought their joined hands up to kiss the back of Kurt's, smiling. "I'm sure. I feel better now. I just…needed a second. To think. I don't know why I assumed they'd never find out, especially when we spend so much time with them. But they're our friends and I feel comfortable sharing this with them, now that I can't really avoid it."

They both laughed, and Blaine led the way past their curtain and back into the living room. Rachel was at the stove, stirring a pot of water, while Santana sat at the kitchen table flipping through a magazine and Elliott and Sam lounged on the couch where Blaine had just been, watching NASCAR.

When Blaine entered the room, all other activity paused, and everyone turned to stare at him.

"Okay, I know you guys must have questions, but let me talk first and then you can ask. Okay?"

The four of them nodded their heads, so Blaine took a deep breath and continued, Kurt's hand in his an anchor.

"I've struggled with depression ever since I was the victim of a hate crime my freshman year of high school. After a dance I attended with another gay guy, three jocks came and beat the crap out of us in a parking lot. It made me feel really bad about myself and who I was, and as a result, I internalized their violence and started hurting myself. I didn't think I was worth much more than I had gotten, because it was the first time I had ever owned up to who I was and had been proud of it, and I got beaten down for it. So, I turned to self harm.

"I stopped around the time Kurt and I became friends, and during my friendship and subsequent relationship with him, I never felt the need to hurt myself." Blaine paused, squeezing Kurt's hand for support. "Kurt saved me as much as I saved him. When we broke up last year, I fell back into old habits and started cutting again, but it didn't last long and I'm better now."

He scanned the room, the sympathetic faces, and nodded. "So. Questions?"

Rachel raised her hand, of course, so Blaine nodded in her direction to acknowledge her question. "Do your parents know about this?"

"No. Until today, the only person who knew was Kurt."

"When's the last time you hurt yourself?" Santana asked.

"December. Like I said, it's been a long time. I haven't done it in about ten months."

"Are you okay?" Elliott asked, looking more concerned than the rest. Blaine was glad he'd taken the chance to get to know Elliott when he moved out here. Now he and Elliott were pretty good friends. "Should we be worried?"

Blaine smiled, tight and small. "No, don't worry about me. I'm fine, really. I was just telling Kurt that I'm in a good place now. I've taken advantage of some of the free counseling resources that NYADA offers students, and if I ever feel the need to do it again, I have several strategies and alternatives to keep me from harming myself."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam cut in, looking more hurt than anything. "I'm supposed to be your best friend, man. How could you keep something like this from me?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, shrugging. "I didn't want anyone to know. If you had known, you would have helped me, and I didn't want help. At the time, hurting myself felt like the only good thing I had left in my life. It was the only thing keeping me sane."

"That's messed up," Sam said.

"I know," Blaine replied. "But it's the truth."

"But you're done with it, right? For good?" Rachel asked, hopeful.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. Look, I can't promise I'll never do it again, but I _can_ promise that I'm in a good place now, with lots of alternatives and a wonderful support system of friends to help me if I feel bad again."

"Damn right you do," Kurt said, smiling.

Blaine looked over at him and smiled back. They met in the middle for a short kiss, and then Blaine looked around the room at his friends who were still wearing awkward and uncomfortable expressions.

"Guys, this doesn't change anything. I'm still me. No one has to walk on eggshells or be extra careful not to break me, okay? Think of them as battle scars. I won every single one of these fights, because I'm still here, and I'm happy. Alright? Please don't let this change things. We should all go back to normal."

"How can we go back to normal when we know you've taken blades to your own skin?" Santana asked, frowning. "What, we're supposed to all meet in the middle and form a circle holding hands and sing about friendship and love now? How does that solve anything?"

"That's not what he's saying, Santana," Kurt said. "He's just saying that it's over. It's a part of his past. We all have parts of our past that we don't like to talk about. Blaine was just unfortunate enough that you all saw evidence of his. He didn't have to talk about it, but he chose to tell you guys the truth because he trusted you enough to share this with you. Don't be a bitch about it."

Santana paused, pursing her lips. "Fine." With that, she stood up and left the loft.

"Where is she going?" Elliott asked.

"I'll go talk to her," Blaine said, letting go of Kurt's hand.

Kurt held him back, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I've got this. I promise."

Blaine found Santana leaning against the building outside on the street, watching people walk by in the dim light of the setting sun. He didn't say anything, just leaned against the building with her. After a while, she spoke.

"You ever think about taking up smoking?"

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. "No. Not really. Why?"

"No reason. I just think it'd look cooler if I was smoking a cigarette while leaning against this building. That's all."

"You know those things are really bad for you, Santana."

"Yeah, well, so is cutting yourself."

"Touche," Blaine said after a pause.

Santana glanced over at him then flicked her gaze to the ground, kicking a small pebble around with the toe of her shoe. "You know I just care about you, right?"

"Yeah, Santana. I know."

"I didn't mean to be a bitch. I just don't like knowing you did that to yourself. And that you could do it again."

"I know."

"Because I have love for you."

"I know."

"You're supposed to say you love me too."

"You already know I do."

"That's true."

"That rhymed."

Santana cracked a smile, looking up at him. "You're a dork."

"Yeah."

They stood in silence a bit more before Santana said, "You wanna go pick up some pizzas with me? I heard Berry saying she was cooking something vegan for dinner. She told me what it was but the second I heard beansprouts I tuned out. Plus I stole her wallet so it's on her."

Blaine laughed. "How about I pay?"

"As long as I don't have to."

They shoved off the side of the building, heading towards their favorite pizza place a few blocks from their loft. Santana nudged Blaine's shoulder on the way, so he nudged hers back, and they smiled at each other.

Yeah, Blaine had a good support system. He'd be just fine.


	6. Family

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #732: "If you're so great, such a charming talented loveable guy, how come we've never seen your parents at any of our performances or plays or other stuff? That's right, because they can't stand you!" Tina lashes out at Blaine touching on one of his deepest insecurities._

… … …

Blaine had been raised with certain standards and rules. His parents were never mean, but they weren't exactly…warm, either. They were cold, and distant, and always too busy to pay Blaine any attention. But they raised him well, based on the principles they were raised with: good manners, politeness, and keeping up public appearances. Your reputation was everything, so you had to always be composed and poised in public so that no one had any reason to say anything bad about you.

These principles came in handy when it came to Blaine's friendship with Tina. He was never one to speak poorly about anyone in public, but at night over Skype with the one person he trusted the most in this world, Blaine would admit that Tina could be…difficult. Kurt always laughed, because boy did he know. It was the one time Blaine really let himself be honest about the things he disliked about Tina.

She cried. Like, all the time. Over nothing. Which, okay, it was tolerable at first, but now every time he saw her eyes get watery he went through a list of polite excuses to leave her alone until she got back to normal. (At first he thought it was her…_menstrual cycle_ messing her up, but the more she insisted on talking about cramps and backaches and everything that entails, Blaine was able to chart exactly when her time of the month was. And it was not every day of every month).

She was also impossibly inflexible. It had gotten better over time, but god, she never wanted to do anything anyone else's way. And when she agreed to do something for someone else, she never let you forget it. You were forever in her debt.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't like Tina, per say. Sure, there were things that bugged him about her, but there were things that bugged him about Sam and Kurt, too. Tina had her good qualities.

She was a good friend. A very good friend. Fiercely loyal, really. There were times where she'd lose sight of her friends and get selfish, but she always woke up and came around. Tina always did what was right, in the end.

Except when she didn't. Because sometimes, Tina was just plain…_mean._

It was only a few minutes before glee club was set to start, and Blaine sat on a stool in the choir room, watching Tina finish her performance. When it was over, he clapped dutifully, giving her an encouraging grin.

"Good job, Tina!"

She rolled her eyes as she smiled at him. "Blainey days, you always say I do a good job!"

"Because you do!"

"Come on, I need some constructive criticism! I really want to get this solo. I honestly can't even remember the last time I had a solo. And that's not an exaggeration. I really can't remember."

Blaine laughed, standing up and crossing over to stand next to her by the piano. "You're going to nail this. I believe in you."

"Well, I know that, but you also get solos without even _auditioning. _I have to know if it was really good or not. Come on, give me your honest opinion!"

Blaine hesitated, looking away. His parents' constant stream of words about being polite and _if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all _ran through his head. He was torn between wanting to be a good friend and wanting to be a good son.

"Only if you're sure," he said slowly, testing the waters.

Tina nodded, giving Blaine a serious look. "Yes. Be honest. I need to know what I did wrong so I can fix it before auditions."

"Okay," Blaine sighed. "You started off pitchy, but strong. You changed keys a little bit in the first verse, though, so be mindful of that and keep your ears open to the music. That applies to the tempo, too, you were all over the place and Brad was struggling to keep up. You were flat throughout the first chorus and then overcompensated and were sharp on the second. There was way too much vibrato all throughout the bridge, and then you cracked on the final note." He paused, smiling at her. "But you were great overall!"

The second Blaine saw Tina's face he knew he'd made the wrong decision. She looked like she did in the hallway during diva week when he was sick and she yelled at him out of nowhere. She looked equal parts hurt and pissed off.

"Why would you say something like that to me?" she asked.

Blaine frowned, taking a step back. "You, um…you said to be honest. You told me to tell you what you did wrong so you could fix it. I was trying to be a good friend."

"A good friend? A good _friend? _A good friend would've just said, 'It could use some work, but you're still great, so keep practicing!' You…you just tore into me, didn't you? You finally got your opportunity to do your worst and you just couldn't wait to tell me all the things I do wrong!"

Blaine opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. He'd never run into a situation like this. He'd been so careful to avoid things like this, and now—now what was he supposed to do?

"I bet you just think you're so special, don't you?" Tina asked, her tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks as she pointed her finger at him and took steps toward him. Every step she took, he took one back, but he knew that would only last so long until he ran into a wall. "Oh, cute and perfect Blaine! You just wear your bowties and your suspenders and take over this glee club with your bouncy solos. You must think you're so great, don't you?"

The bell rang, and Blaine heard the hallway flood with students. He looked around, knowing that any second other glee kids would start pouring in.

"I don't know what to say, Tina, I'm really sorry. I thought I was helping."

"Of course, because you're so perfect, everything you say is right!"

"That—That's not what I meant!"

Blaine glanced over at Unique, Kitty, and Artie who were all standing in the doorway closest to him. He spied Sam and Marley in the other doorway across the room.

"If you're so great," Tina continued, "such a charming, talented, lovable guy, how come we've never seen your parents at any of our performances or plays or other stuff?" She paused for effect, staring Blaine right in the eye and standing only a foot away from him now. Blaine shut his eyes, because he didn't like where this was going, and he didn't know if he could take what she said next. "That's right, because they can't stand you!"

And that's when Blaine broke.

He didn't even realize it. One minute, he was standing face to face with Tina, eyes shut and cowering, waiting for her to finish and get it out of her system. The next thing he knew, he was crouched on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and fingers grabbing fistfuls of gelled hair.

"Blaine? Come on, man, it's just me."

Blaine looked up, loosening his fingers in his hair and relaxing a little at the sight of his best friend. "Sam."

"Yeah, dude. It's okay."

Sam was giving Blaine a weird look, like he was talking to a wounded animal he didn't want to spook. Blaine's eyes flitted around the room, at the clusters of glee kids standing around awkwardly by the doors, and Mr. Schue hovering right behind Sam, looking worried. Tina was nowhere to be found, but neither was Artie.

"Where did she go?"

"I got Artie to go out in the hall and walk it off with her. Well, roll it off. Anyway, what happened, man?"

Blaine sniffed, groaning and wiping at his eyes. "She—uh…we were fighting over constructive criticism, and she got really offended, and she said my parents hate me."

"Yeah, I heard that part," Sam said, giving Blaine a sympathetic look. Sam didn't know much about Blaine's home life, but he knew that every time he said they should hang out, Blaine suggested they play video games at the Hudson home where Sam still lived. Sam had never been to Blaine's house, and Blaine knew that Sam wasn't dumb enough to not notice that.

"You know that's not true, right?" Sam continued, laying a hand on Blaine's knee. "Your parents don't hate you."

Blaine smiled, small and tight-lipped. "Yeah, Sam. Of course."

He looked around the room again, registering the faces of his classmates this time, and slowly mortification washed over him. He was sitting on the floor in a classroom full of people crying because a girl said something mean to him. God, if his parents were here, they'd yank him off the floor with a grip so hard it'd leave bruises and tug him out of here. He wouldn't even put it past them to make him transfer schools. His reputation here was ruined, now, after all.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, addressing everyone in the room. "I didn't mean to cause a scene." He slipped on the mask and stood up, flattening his hair as best he could without a mirror and wiping his face, composing himself. "Everything is fine. Mr. Schue, may I be excused to the restroom?"

Mr. Schue frowned, but nodded. "Sure, Blaine. Take your time."

"Thank you."

He smiled politely at his friends before squeezing past them and heading into the hallway. He didn't go to the bathroom, but he did wind up in the empty chemistry classroom on the third floor that he and Kurt used to sneak off to the previous year.

Kurt.

Kurt was the only one who knew all of Blaine's secrets. Kurt knew about Blaine's parents, and his brother, and the hate crime, and severe bullying Blaine had endured. Kurt knew everything. And Kurt was the only one Blaine could think of to make him feel better. So, Blaine pulled out his phone and composed a short text message.

_I know you're probably busy right now, but Tina said something about my parents that really struck a chord with me and I need you._

He set his phone beside him and hopped up to sit on top of one of the lab tables, swinging his legs back and forth. Not even a minute later his phone was buzzing beside him, not with a text, but with a call.

"Kurt, you didn't have to call me."

_"I am never too busy for you, Blaine. We're past that, remember? What did Tina say?"_

Blaine tilted his head to the side and picked at a loose thread on the hem of his cardigan. "She said my parents hate me."

He heard Kurt sigh on the other end of the line. _"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. You know that's not true; don't listen to anything she says. Tina likes to think she knows everything, but she doesn't know you at all."_

"Yeah," Blaine said, skeptical. He knew Kurt wouldn't lie to him, but he still wasn't convinced.

Maybe Tina had a point. His parents hadn't attended a single performance Blaine had ever given, any play he'd ever acted in, any competition he'd ever fought in. His parents just weren't around. What did it say about him that his own parents didn't want to spend time with him?

_"Look, I'm not going to sugarcoat this, because we've talked about your parents before and you know how I feel about them. You deserve so much better than they give you, Blaine, and I'm truly sorry that they're not there for you. But they do love you, B. I mean, they did agree to attend their son's wedding to another man, right? In public?"_

Blaine nodded, then realized Kurt couldn't see him. "Yeah."

_"What did they say when you told them we're engaged?"_

"They said that if I'm happy, they're happy."

_"Exactly. I know it's not much, but you and I both know how far they've come to be able to say that to you now. They've worked to change their way of thinking for you. They wouldn't do that if they didn't love you."_

"I just wish they'd show it sometimes. Give me a hug, say they're proud of me, come watch me perform. I mean, I haven't been in the same room with my mom for longer than five minutes in _weeks. _I just wish they cared more."

_"I know. I do too. But you have me, alright? And I am going to be at all of your shows, and your concerts, and anything else you do, alright? Front row center."_

Finally, Blaine cracked a genuine smile. "Really?"

"_Try and stop me."_

Blaine took a deep breath, nodding to himself. "Thank you."

_"Anytime, B. I love you _so much. _And I'm visiting in just a few weeks, so hang in there, okay?"_

"Yeah. I will. I love you, too, Kurt."

_"You better." _

Blaine huffed out a laugh, smiling to himself.

He knew Tina would apologize later for what she said. And he knew that deep down, she didn't mean it. He knew that though they didn't show it, his parents did care for him. He knew that they loved him. Most importantly, though, he knew Kurt loved him. And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

Kurt was Blaine's family, and he was always willing to show Blaine just how much he loved him.


	7. Don't Rain on My (Pride) Parade

Today was a big day for Kurt. Not just because Isabelle promoted him to paid intern the day before, or because they had finally unpacked the last of Blaine's things in the loft that morning, or because he and Blaine had had the most amazing celebratory sex afterwards. No, it was because today, on a warm summer's day in New York City, was the first time he would be attending a gay pride parade.

Not only that, but he was attending the parade with his fiancé, their lesbian friend, and her girlfriend.

To say that Kurt was ecstatic was an understatement.

"Come on, Santana, we're going to be late!" Kurt called, standing by the doorway with Blaine's arm around his waist.

From the bathroom, Santana shouted back, "I needs to pencil my eyebrows on! Hold your unicorns!"

Kurt heard Brittany in the bathroom with Santana say, "Oh, are there going to be unicorns at the parade?" but was used to her strange way of thinking by now and didn't question it.

"I'd say someone's excited," Blaine teased, squeezing Kurt's waist.

"This is a big deal, Blaine. Not only is this our first gay pride parade, but it's in _New York City. _I mean, it's no San Francisco, but it comes in a pretty close second, don't you think?"

Blaine only grinned and kissed Kurt on the cheek. "You're adorable."

Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled. "I know I'm not the only one excited to go. You did that thing in your sleep last night when you're excited about something where you snuffle and roll around a lot and cuddle me like a teddy bear."

"I do that every night!"

"It's different when you're excited about something."

"If you say so, dear," Blaine said.

Santana and Brittany finally emerged from the bathroom, Santana wearing her shirt from their "Born This Way" performance that said LEBANESE and a simple black skirt and Brittany wearing a rainbow tie-dye shirt and denim shorts, complete with a rainbow headband. Under ordinary circumstances, Kurt would insist they change, but this was a special day, and Kurt was also wearing his "Born This Way" performance shirt that read LIKES BOYS, so he had no room to criticize.

"Are you two finally ready to go?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Relax, Hummel, we were in the bathroom for five minutes. The parade hasn't even started yet."

"But there are activities and vendors and people are already there! We need to make sure we get a good spot to watch the parade!"

Blaine laughed and let go of Kurt, nudging him towards the door. "Let's go, Mr. Over-Eager." He smacked Kurt's butt on the way out, to which Kurt turned around and wrestled with Blaine for a second, pulling him into his arms and grabbing Blaine's butt in retaliation.

Through all the giggling and touching and flirting, they finally made it outside, and to Santana's credit, she didn't comment on it, but instead chose to hold Brittany's hand and be sweet with her in the same way.

It was obvious when they made it to the area where the parade would take place. There were booths set up along close off streets with rainbow gear or advertising for big gay rights corporations like ACLU and HRC. Kurt's stomach swooped at the sight of it all.

Here, walking the streets of New York City, holding the hand of his fiancé with their lesbian friends right beside them, he was finally safe to be who he was and be proud of it. He glanced over at Santana, who was holding Brittany's hand and smiling in awe at the pride festival, and thought of how far they both had come.

"Well, babe, you were the one most eager to get here," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hand and kissing his shoulder. "Where do you want to go first?"

"I don't know. I kind of just want to walk around and see everything. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

The four of them set off walking down the street along the vendors, eyeing all the booths and the various things they were selling. Some of them handed out free items, like the blue and yellow equality stickers at the HRC booth that they all stuck somewhere on their clothes and the mini rainbow flags they all received from a Walgreens booth, surprisingly enough.

"There are so many dolphins," Brittany said, looking around at all the gay and lesbian couples kissing and holding hands. She smiled and waved her flag a little. "This is fun!"

"It is cool, isn't it?" Blaine said. "It's neat seeing so many openly affectionate gay couples."

"I don't feel like a freak for once," Santana muttered, laying her head on Brittany's shoulder. "It's nice."

Kurt smiled. "See? I told you guys this would be fun."

"I didn't doubt you for a second, baby," Blaine said, pulling Kurt in for a sweet kiss.

They walked around some more, casually exploring all the gay pride and enjoying the atmosphere. There was something electric about being there, Kurt thought. The air felt fun, and free, and exciting. There were thousands of people just like him, who had gone through that time of being afraid to be who you are, and were now being given the opportunity to celebrate it. It was an experience Kurt couldn't quite describe.

Until a small group of people with hateful signs standing just outside the boundaries of the celebration deflated his mood.

Kurt stopped walking, which made Blaine, Santana, and Brittany pause too, and stared at the group. It was less than ten people, but their message was written loud and clear on their signs.

_FAGS GO TO HELL_

_AIDS IS GOD'S SOLUTION TO HOMOSEXUALITY_

_IT'S ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND STEVE_

Following Kurt's line of vision, Blaine sighed. "That's sad. I don't know why they can't just let us have this one day."

"You'd think they'd come up with better material by now," Santana remarked, frowning. "Their signs are always the same. It's a pity they're not smart enough to come up with anything better."

"Why are those people protesting fun and love?" Brittany asked. "Isn't it their number one rule that God is love?"

"Yeah, they're just ignorant, Britt," Santana told her.

Kurt was still silent, disheartened more than he liked by the hatred this small group was sending.

Blaine nudged him, leaning close to Kurt's ear and talking so only he would hear. "Don't let them get to you, Kurt. There's only, what, eight of them? Compared to the thousands of us. Their numbers are dwindling every day. Don't let the few remaining homophobes ruin this for you, okay? This is _our _day."

Kurt sighed, shaking himself. "You're right. I shouldn't let them get to me."

"You want to go over there? Because we can. I still keep razor blades in my hair. And you don't even want to know what's in my bra," Santana said, giving Kurt a look.

"Your boobs are in your bra," Brittany said.

They were all silent for a beat before laughing, the tension dissolved by Brittany's unique innocence and optimism.

"Come on," Kurt said, tugging Blaine's hand and continuing on down the street. "Let's just keep walking."

After a while, Santana spied some booths for _Curve _magazine and Dinah Shore, so she and Brittany split off to go explore things more catered to them specifically, while Kurt and Blaine headed towards an area where the vendors were selling food.

"Thank god," Blaine groaned. "I'm starving."

Kurt laughed, looking at their food options. "Corn dogs, hot dogs, sausage on a stick, popsicles… I'm sensing a theme here."

They both laughed, then, probably louder than the situation warranted, but Kurt was just glad to be back in his happy mood. As Rachel would say if she were here, he refused to let the few hateful people rain on his parade.

So, they ate, and they kissed, and they explored all the fun that the festival had to offer. They met back up with Santana and Brittany a little while later, thinking of something to do in the couple remaining hours until the parade was set to begin.

"We could go to a bar," Santana suggested.

"Not a single one of us is 21 yet, Santana," Kurt pointed out.

She shrugged. "Maybe not technically, but as I was going through your things in my biweekly ransack of the loft, I found fake IDs for both you and Blaine, and I just happen to have those right here in my purse, along with the ones Britt and I had made last year."

As much as Kurt wanted to be indignant that Santana had gone through his things—_again—_he just couldn't be mad. Not when she was presenting him with a fun idea.

"Okay," he said, taking his and Blaine's IDs from her hand. "Let's do it."

"Wait, really?" Blaine asked.

"It seems like fun," Kurt said. "One beer won't hurt."

"I can't believe you're agreeing to this," Blaine said, amused.

"Why, because I didn't want to drink in high school? This is different. We're adults in New York City at a gay pride parade. If there is ever a time for Kurt Hummel to experiment with drinking, it's right now."

"Drinking is fun but it makes the world spinny and I always wake up with no clothes," Brittany said.

Santana laughed. "I'll make sure you keep your clothes on, Britt-Britt. Don't worry."

They found a bar about a block down the street and headed in, each ordering a beer and flashing their IDs. Under ordinary circumstances, Kurt assumed the bartender would be a lot more suspicious, but seeing as this was a special day and the entire bar looked to be filled with underage people, the bartender served them without question.

Kurt grimaced after tasting his first sip, but quickly schooled his expression into a neutral one after the bartender glanced his way. He leaned close to Blaine and said, "This is disgusting. How do you drink this?"

Santana slapped Kurt lightly on the back and said, "Man up, Hummel. It's not that bad. Tequila shots would be better, but this'll do."

Blaine laughed. "I don't think tequila shots are necessary at four in the afternoon, Santana."

"Necessary? No. Preferable? Definitely."

"Oh, are we doing body shots?" Brittany asked, perking up. "I like licking Santana's body!"

Blaine, who had been taking a swig of his beer as Brittany said that, choked, coughing and laughing. "Oh, my god."

Kurt laughed, too, rubbing circles on Blaine's back. "You okay, honey?"

"Please, as if you two are such prudes. You have loud, kinky sex almost every night," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't blame me," Kurt said. "Blaine's the one who can't keep quiet."

"We should absolutely blame you!" Blaine replied, clearing his throat and sitting up. "You're the reason I can't keep quiet!"

They all laughed, and Kurt suddenly thought of his high school years before Blaine. How little Kurt knew about sex back then, and how unwilling he was to learn. Thank god for Blaine.

Kurt didn't feel much different after his first beer, but then Santana ordered them another round and after his second, he did start to feel warmer and a little more giddy. Wasting their time in a bar was the perfect idea, and for once, Kurt was glad to have gone along with Santana.

They each had a third beer before practically skipping out of the bar to go snag good spots to watch the parade. If they were loose and free before, they were completely free now. Kurt's inhibitions were lowered, and he was touching and teasing and flirting with Blaine even more than before. Blaine didn't seem to be complaining, so once they found a good area to stand by the gates separating the crowd from the parade, Kurt pulled Blaine into his body, every part of them touching, and initiated a heated kiss.

And god, it was so much fun to not only kiss but _make out _with Blaine in public, because instead of angry shouts of _"Fags!" _or having things thrown at them, people cat-called and whistled and cheered as they passed by, which only made Kurt kiss Blaine harder. He licked his way into Blaine's mouth, turning the kiss dirty and magnetic. Blaine moaned into his mouth, grabbing at Kurt's ass and rutting his hips against Kurt's.

It wasn't until Santana tugged at Kurt's shoulder, saying, "If you two come in your pants in public I will never let you live it down," that they pulled away, lips red and swollen, gazes intense and heated.

"That was fun," Blaine said, low and laughing, kissing Kurt's nose. "We should make out in public more often."

Kurt smiled. "You probably won't think that once you're sober."

"I'm not even drunk!"

Kurt laughed, stroking the side of Blaine's face. "Oh, but baby, you are. And it's cute. You're a cute drunk, so it's okay."

Blaine playfully butted his forehead into Kurt's, frowning. "I'm not cute. I'm… I'm…"

"Dirty cute?" Kurt offered, winking.

"Exactly," Blaine said, grinning.

It wasn't too much later that the parade started. Kurt watched in delight as the floats drove down the street, the people on them dancing and partying. Almost all of the floats were throwing free things into the crowd: bead necklaces, t-shirts, candy. They all reached to grab at the free stuff, Brittany the most focused on candy. Santana made to lift her shirt up to flash for beads, but Kurt quickly grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

After a while, Kurt's feet and legs started to hurt from standing for so long, but he didn't want to leave just yet. He wanted to get the full experience, watch the whole parade. He shifted his weight back and forth several times, leaning forward and backward to try and alleviate the growing pain in his lower back.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look uncomfortable."

"My body is just starting to ache from standing for so long. I'm okay."

Blaine turned around and bent over, holding his hands out behind him awkwardly.

Kurt frowned and laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Get on my back!" Blaine said. "I'll carry you!"

"Oh, Blaine, I'm fine, I promise! I'm far too big for a piggy back ride."

"Kurt, I work out regularly. I can carry you, I promise. If you're really that uncomfortable, hop on."

Kurt rolled his eyes, hesitating for only a second longer before complying. He set his hands on Blaine's shoulders and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Blaine's waist and his arms securely around Blaine's neck. Blaine straightened up with ease and bounced to lift Kurt up a little higher, getting a better grip.

"See? I've got you," Blaine said.

Kurt smiled, kissing the side of Blaine's head. "Yeah, you do."

"Oh, I wanna do that! Ride me, Santana!" Brittany shouted.

Kurt and Blaine burst out laughing as the crowd cheered and cat-called at Brittany's very _loud _request.

"Britt, I'm not climbing on your back," Santana said, laughing too.

"Come on! It'll be fun!"

Santana rolled her eyes but did it anyway, and then Kurt and Santana were both getting carried.

The parade ended not too long after that, and if Blaine was getting tired of carrying Kurt, he didn't show it. Actually, as the last few floats drove by, Blaine turned to Brittany and said, "Ready to carry our loves back home?"

"You're such a dork, Blanderson," Santana said, smiling as she rolled her eyes.

Brittany grinned, though, nodding excitedly. "Let's go!"

Blaine and Brittany turned around and started walking in the direction of the loft, carrying Santana and Kurt and laughing the whole way.

"Blaine, you don't have to carry me home, I can walk!" Kurt insisted, patting his hands against Blaine's chest.

"I know, but I like carrying you! It's fun!"

"I'm too heavy, you goof!"

"Nonsense."

Even so, about halfway home, they stopped to let Santana and Kurt down, and they all four walked the rest of the way home. When they finally made it back into the loft, they were met with a smiling Rachel sitting on the couch watching TV.

"How was the parade?" Rachel asked.

"It was a lot of fun!" Brittany said, smiling. "Santana and I got to kiss everywhere and we had beer and Kurt and Blaine had sex in public."

Kurt scoffed, protesting. "We did not have sex in public!"

Rachel laughed. "It sounds like it was a good day, then."

"A very good day," Blaine said, kissing behind Kurt's ear and down his neck as he slid his arm around Kurt's waist, hand digging a hard hold into Kurt's hip.

Rachel raised her eyebrows and nodded, amused. "Well, I'm just going to go to sleep, then. With my noise-cancelling headphones." She winked on her way out of the living room, disappearing behind her curtain partition.

"Let's go to bed," Blaine murmured against Kurt's skin.

Kurt got the implications and nodded, turning his head to kiss Blaine fully on the mouth. "Let's go."

They made their way towards their bedroom, grabbing and pinching and kissing the whole way there. At the curtain, Kurt turned around to Santana and Brittany, who were still standing by the door, close and smiling as Brittany tucked Santana's hair behind her ear and leaned in to kiss her.

"Goodnight, ladies," Kurt called, smiling.

They ignored him, but he couldn't blame them. He had a half-naked fiancé shrugging out of his pants and becoming fully naked on their bed waiting for him. Kurt shook his head, smiling to himself as he closed their curtain partition and slipped out of his clothes, climbing onto the bed and on top of Blaine, kissing him deep and slow, running hands up and down Blaine's sides.

"So you had fun today?" Blaine asked, already breathless and squirming under Kurt.

"Mmm," Kurt hummed, leaning down and nuzzling his nose against Blaine's chest, peppering it with kisses. "I did, indeed. But I believe we started something out there waiting for that parade and I intend to finish it."

Kurt continued his way down Blaine's body, kissing and sucking and licking at Blaine's lower abdomen, teasing him. Blaine gasped, writhing and moaning. "_Ooh, _I have never loved you more," Blaine panted.

Kurt laughed. "I bet."

And there in their bed, after a day of celebrating who they were and being proud of it, Kurt had celebratory sex with Blaine that was so amazing, it rivaled the celebratory sex they'd had that morning. Kurt made a mental note that they should celebrate things with sex more often.


	8. A Place Where He's Loved

_Blaine has been abused by both of his parents for as long as he can remember and had long ago given up on the idea of a happy life. That is, until he meets the one boy who shows him what true happiness is. Based on an idea I got from the song "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride._

… … …

If he remembered correctly—which he probably didn't, as he'd suffered quite a few blows to the head—Blaine figured the abuse probably started when he was very young, around five or six years old. It was when Cooper ran away, Blaine knew that. He was just fuzzy on when that was. He knew, though, that if things were bad enough for his older brother to run away and leave him to deal with their parents alone, the abuse must have started early, and not just with Blaine.

Still, it's been years and years now. A little over a decade, Blaine estimated, that he'd endured whatever his parents threw at him. Sometimes it was relatively benign, like his mother taking his bicep in a vice grip and yanking him up the stairs and throwing him in his room, locking him in for the night. The worst he got in a situation like that was the finger-shaped bruises on his arms, maybe some bruises on his knees or hip where he usually fell.

There were other times, though, when he didn't talk enough at dinner, or didn't have his homework finished by the time he got home from school, or forgot to do one of his numerous chores, that his mom would just lose it. She'd smack him wherever she deemed fit—his head, his shoulder, his arms, the back of his neck, his face. Most of the time it was multiple hits raining down on him as he retreated to his room, shutting himself in.

His room was his safe haven.

Although his mother beat him much more often, it was Blaine's father that he was the most afraid of. It only happened once every couple of weeks, sometimes only once a month, but when his dad got angry enough to beat him, it was bad. Blaine had suffered many broken bones—ribs, wrist, fingers and toes—and even a few concussions. His body would be so painted with the deep and sickly hues of bruises that even if it were summer, Blaine had to wear cardigans and jeans to hide every part of him. The parts that showed, like his neck and face, he had found a perfect concealer for.

It sometimes sickened him to think it, but he was used to the abuse by now. He'd adapted.

It wasn't until he came home one night after attending a Sadie Hawkins dance with another boy that things got bad enough, he knew he had to get out. That night resulted in his worst concussion yet, three broken ribs, a sprained ankle, several bruises, and large gashes across his back where the glass doors of his parents' liquor cabinet had shattered when his dad had all but thrown him into it.

When his parents had gone to bed that night, Blaine sneaked out of the house to go to the hospital. He told the nurses and doctors that he'd been mugged, and when prompted, refused to call the police or press charges. He said his parents were out of town and unable to come sign his papers, but lied and told them he was eighteen so he signed all of his own papers. The story of his mugging helped with his lack of identification to verify his name and age, and once they'd patched him back up as best they could, he slipped out before they could attempt to admit him for overnight observation.

He was honestly shocked when his parents agreed to let him attend Dalton Academy. He presented the idea to them as a way to get him into shape, insisting that with the right discipline that Dalton offered, he would become a better son for them. Of course, this was untrue. Dalton was just a regular all-boys boarding school, not a reform school, but his parents didn't care enough to look into it. Instead they saw an opportunity to ship their son off, and they took it.

Which was strange to Blaine. Now who would they have to push around?

Each other?

He didn't care, really. As long as he was out of their line of fire, he didn't care. Anything to get away from the constant rain of injuries. And here was his ticket out.

It took a while to acclimate to dorm life. Even longer to acclimate to life without fear of violence. He stuck to himself, mostly, too afraid to interact with other people. After a while, though, a couple guys wore him down. Wes and David, members of Dalton's show choir, had pre-calc with him and immediately took an interest, not just because he was new, but because he was a sophomore in an upper level math class.

They continually started conversations with him, and sat with him at lunch, and invited him to hang out. It took a while for Blaine to say yes, but he did, finally. Slowly, they brought him into their circle of friends, which just happened to be predominately other members of the Warblers. They convinced him to join, and soon, Blaine was starting to feel like a normal kid.

He still had nightmares, but at least they weren't real anymore.

Then he met a beautiful boy on a staircase and everything changed.

Kurt was damaged. Blaine didn't know the extent, but the second their eyes met, Blaine recognized the same haunted look he saw every time he looked in the mirror. Kurt was scared, and broken, so Blaine offered the only advice he could. Kurt should transfer to Dalton. Of course, it wasn't that simple, not for Kurt. But they did start spending time together, and Blaine found himself developing feelings for his new friend.

One Saturday, they were hanging out and doing homework together in Blaine's dorm room. Blaine paused in the middle of a history worksheet, looking up at Kurt beside him on the bed.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

Kurt stiffened, lifting his gaze slowly to Blaine. "No. Have you?"

"No," Blaine answered, shrugging. "I'd like one, though. I think it'd be nice. Don't you?"

"I have often fantasized about it, yes, but I'm not foolish enough to think it'll happen anytime soon for me. Not in this town."

Blaine paused, glancing over Kurt. He pursed his lips, considering. "Never say never."

Kurt gave him an odd look, but smiled. "You're right. Maybe Prince Charming is just within my reach."

Blaine smiled back before returning to his homework.

It was good for a while, with Kurt in his life. They spent as much time together as possible, and soon Kurt did transfer to Dalton. Blaine asked Wes for a favor to pull some strings with the administrative staff to get Kurt into his room, so now they were spending even more time together than before. Instead of getting sick of Kurt's presence, as Blaine would've thought, he just found that he liked Kurt more the more they were together.

Living together offered an opportunity at intimacy and knowledge of each other that they hadn't had yet, and Blaine felt like there was no one in the world he knew better than Kurt.

Kurt knew Blaine well, too, but there was a limit with how much Blaine was willing to share. Absolutely no one knew about his parents or his home life, and he intended to keep it that way. Still, apart from that, Blaine tried his best to be honest with Kurt about pretty much everything.

It was during a late night musical session that their relationship changed.

Kurt had an audition for a solo in the Warblers—which he'd joined soon after transferring—so Blaine offered his help in rehearsal. They stayed after the regular Warbler rehearsal to use the piano, and after all the other students had left, they sat down at the bench together.

Kurt's fingers flew over the keys playing several tunes, some familiar to Blaine and some not.

"I didn't know you could play," Blaine said, smiling and watching Kurt. The warmth he'd started feeling recently anytime he looked at Kurt washed over him.

Kurt shrugged, continuing to play. "I took lessons a lot when I was younger. They stopped years ago, but I had the basic foundation to continue practicing on my own. I could read sheet music, so I kind of taught myself from then on."

"Very impressive."

"Thank you," Kurt said, smiling, his cheeks tinged with pink.

"I always wanted to play," Blaine told him. "My parents wouldn't let me."

"Mmm." Kurt hummed his acknowledgment, but learned a while ago that Blaine didn't give details of his family and left it there.

Blaine watched Kurt for a while, studying the serene expression on his face as he played, and the nimble way his fingers danced across the keys, and beautiful way his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the music every so often.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

Blaine said it so simply, that at first, Kurt didn't react much. Then, as if the words had only just sunken in moments later, he froze. His fingers hovered above the piano, poised but un-playing. He glanced over at Blaine, honest and searching.

"What?"

"Is that because you didn't hear me? Or you're surprised?"

"I—Blaine…"

Blaine tilted his head to the side, still studying Kurt with mild amusement. "Yes?"

Kurt seemed at a loss for words, but Blaine took his facial expression to be a good thing and decided to take a chance, leaning forward slowly until his lips were pressed to Kurt's, light and chaste. He pulled back slowly, eyes open and staring at Kurt. Then, Kurt closed his eyes again and closed the distance between them in another kiss, this one deeper than the last.

Blaine slipped one hand to hold the side of Kurt's head, thumb just before Kurt's ear and the rest of his fingers rooted into the hair behind it, the other hand going and resting securely on Kurt's waist. Kurt's hands flailed for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and pulled him closer in.

When they broke apart, both breathing heavily and slightly dazed, Kurt smiled the brightest Blaine had ever seen. "I've been waiting forever to do that."

Blaine grinned, taking Kurt's hand and lacing their fingers together. "Was it worth the wait?"

"Absolutely."

As Blaine slipped into his new role as boyfriend, the happiness of the relationship took over everything else. It was a bright, sunny veil thrown over his eyes and lighting the world in a way he'd never seen it before. For a while, at least, he was able to forget about his parents. Or at least push them to the back of his mind. They were always a threat, looming over him, but the cloud didn't seem as dark.

Until they showed back up in his life.

There had been flyers and banners and announcements for weeks about the upcoming parent/teacher night, but Blaine hadn't thought much of it. He didn't think his parents would even know about it, much less bother to show up if they did. What he didn't count on was the school mailing letters to all the parents, and his own taking enough interest to come.

But they did. They showed up at Blaine's dorm room in the middle of him making out with Kurt. They knocked on the door, making both Blaine and Kurt jump out of their skin at the sudden noise. They giggled, sitting up on Kurt's bed and straightening their clothes. When Blaine's mom announced through the door that they were there, Blaine's entire body went rigid, already preparing for the blows that were sure to come.

Kurt frowned, noticing Blaine's sudden change in mood. "What's wrong?"

Blaine shot out of bed, going over to the mirror and making sure his appearance was perfect. "My parents are here."

"Oh!" Kurt smiled. "Well, that's a good thing, right? I finally get to meet them."

"_No,_" Blaine said forcefully, spinning around with a hard glare. "You can't meet them. I'm sorry, Kurt."

Without anymore explanation, Blaine slipped out the door, hiding Kurt from his parents view as he came out of his room.

"Hey, guys. What are you doing here?"

His parents smiled as if they didn't beat him every night his entire life. "We're here for parent/teacher night, Blaine," his mother said. "Your school sent us a letter about it. Did you think we'd miss an opportunity to see what you've been up to?"

Blaine smiled tightly. "No, of course. I'm sorry, I just forgot."

"You really should have told us yourself, Blaine," his father said.

"I know. I'm sorry. I've been really busy with schoolwork."

"Well why don't you show us around to your teachers and we can see that for ourselves?"

"Sure," Blaine said, nodding. "Let's go."

He led the way around to all his classrooms, where the teachers spoke with his parents about his excellent grades and class participation. It seemed, though, that that wasn't enough for his parents. After the classroom tour, they demanded he take them back to his dorm room and show them where he lived.

Blaine sent up a prayer to a god he'd given up on a long time ago that Kurt wasn't in the room anymore.

For some reason, this small request was the first prayer Blaine had ever had answered.

"It's messy," his mother said as she looked around his room, shaking her head. "I know we taught you to clean better than this."

"I had a few major tests this week that I was studying for," Blaine told her. "I was planning to clean soon."

"Don't give your mother excuses, Blaine. You know better than that."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I mean, look at this," his mother continued, picking up dirty clothes from the floor.

Blaine knew what was coming next before it happened.

It started with the clothes, which Blaine was thankful for, because they were soft and didn't hurt as they were hurled at him. But then his mom went all around the room, picking up random objects and throwing them at him. Shoes, books, writing utensils, moisturizing or hair gel bottles. Anything she could get her hands on that didn't seem to be in the right place, she threw them at him. And Blaine had learned long ago that if he tried to dodge his mom when she was throwing things at him, she'd only grab one of the harder, sharper objects and come hit him with it repeatedly.

His father stood stoic by the door, watching it happen and not interfering. One of the bottles hit him in the eye, and he'd had enough experience to know it was going to result in a black eye. The corner of one of his textbooks hit him hard in the chest, which he knew would bruise later. A pair of scissors got him in the forehead; he felt the blood trickling down the side of his face.

Finally, the objects stopped flying. He stood still, not speaking until he was given permission.

His mom stepped towards him slowly, stopping directly in front of his face with a neutral expression. "Clean your fucking room."

"Yes, ma'am."

With that, his parents left.

As soon as the door clicked, Blaine set to work putting his room back in order. It hurt to bend over—his mom had a good arm and some of the big books and shoes hit him hard in the chest and stomach—but he knew he'd have to get the room back to the way it was before Kurt came back. He did his best to clean and put everything away.

It was only after the room was back to normal that Blaine attended to his injuries. He was lucky this time. At least it wasn't glass bottles being thrown at him like it usually was at home.

He grabbed his first aid kit out from under his bed and set it on his dresser, standing in front of the adjoined mirror. The cut on his forehead wasn't bad. It was short, but a little deeper than he'd thought. He wiped the blood off of his face and cleaned the wound with a gauze pad soaked in hydrogen peroxide, hissing at the sting of it. He closed the wound with a butterfly bandage before adding a regular band-aid over it.

There wasn't much he could do for the developing bruise on his eye, though.

Blaine was inspecting the extent of his black eye in the mirror when Kurt came back in. He jumped, looking over to Kurt, whose eyes immediately widened.

"Oh, my god, Blaine! What happened?" Kurt asked, rushing over.

"It's nothing," Blaine said, pulling away as Kurt tried to touch the area around his eye.

"It's obviously something. You've got a black eye forming. And what happened up here?" Kurt's fingers touched gently to the bandage on his forehead.

Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist lightly, pulling his hand away from his face. "It's nothing, Kurt, I promise. I'm fine."

"This isn't nothing. You're hurt. Who did this to you?" Kurt paused, eyes narrowing. "Blaine, where are your parents?"

Blaine tensed. "They left."

He could see it in Kurt's face, the way Kurt was slowly starting to put the pieces together. Blaine had avoided it as long as he could, but the second his parents showed up, Blaine knew he wasn't going to be able to hide this anymore. Not from Kurt.

Kurt's breathing hitched and tears sprang to his eyes. "They did this to you, didn't they?"

Blaine didn't say anything.

His silence said everything.

"_Blaine,"_ Kurt murmured, reaching up a hand to caress Blaine's cheek, thumb sweeping at the bottom of where the bruise was beginning to form around Blaine's eye.

Kurt pulled him in for a tight hug, which only made Blaine flinch. Apparently his chest had been hit harder than he thought. Kurt pulled away immediately, eyes flitting over him. "Where else did they get you?"

"It was just my mom this time," Blaine said, surprised at himself. He knew Kurt knew now, yes, but he didn't expect to volunteer details. "She threw a bunch of stuff at me. Some of it hit me in the chest."

"Can I—" Kurt hesitated. "Can I see?"

Blaine grabbed for the hem of his shirt, lifting it off. He'd been curious to see, himself, but he was planning to do it later, probably when Kurt was asleep. Kurt sighed, and Blaine turned to the mirror to see most of his torso covered in splotches of red that he knew would turn into bruises.

"How long has this been going on, Blaine?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Oh, my god."

Kurt sounded so sad, so defeated, that Blaine wished he could take it back. Kurt's life was hard enough without Blaine complicating it with his own issues.

And yet, Blaine couldn't find it in himself to be sorry at all. For once, he wanted to be selfish. He found someone he could trust enough to let in this much, and _god, _he didn't want to suffer this abuse anymore. He'd put up with it for too damn long. No wonder Cooper ran away.

But Cooper didn't have a Kurt, and Blaine did.

"I don't want to go to the cops," Blaine said, surprised at how small and scared his voice sounded. "But I can't live like this anymore." His voice cracked and he finally broke down, leaning into Kurt and crying into his shoulder. He had to turn his head to the side so only his good eye felt the pressure against Kurt's shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," Kurt murmured, rubbing light circles on Blaine's back. Blaine could feel Kurt's fingers running over several of his scars, but Kurt didn't mention them. "I'm going to help you and everything is going to be fine."

"If we go to the cops, they'll throw me in foster care. I only have two years left until I graduate and then I can escape. It's already better with me here, away from them. I just want to wait it out."

Kurt didn't reply. He only kept doing his best to soothe Blaine. "It's going to be okay, Blaine. I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you."

A promise.

No one would hurt him anymore.

Blaine cried harder, clutching onto the back of Kurt's dress shirt.

"We'll figure it out," Kurt said. "I know you don't want to go to the cops, but maybe we could talk to my dad."

Blaine tensed immediately at the mention of a parent.

"No, it's okay. My dad is good, I promise. He hasn't hit me a day in his life. He hasn't even spanked me. He'll help you, okay?"

Blaine pulled back, looking at Kurt. "What if he wants to go to the cops?"

"We'll sit with him and we'll talk about everything. You can tell him whatever you want to tell him. My dad will know what to do. He always does."

Blaine was still skeptical, but he trusted Kurt. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak more.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and tugged him over to his bed. "Come 'ere." They lay down together, Kurt scooting up behind Blaine and holding him tightly, but careful not to aggravate any injuries Blaine may have. He kissed the back of Blaine's neck. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, and I'm going to protect you. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Not anymore."

Blaine sniffled, nodding against the pillow. His breathing stuttered. He said quietly, "I love you." A secret whisper, only meant for them to hear.

"I love you too," Kurt said.

It was there, lying in bed with the first person to say they loved him, that Blaine thought things might be okay. For good, this time.

Blaine finally let himself believe that maybe things could be better after all.

He could be happy.


	9. Cacophony

_Blaine is schizophrenic and has an episode in front of the whole New York crew._

… … …

Moving to New York wasn't exactly how Blaine imagined it, but it was fun all the same. Sure, he'd thought he'd have more alone time with Kurt, but any time at all he spent with Kurt was nice. The loft was almost always full of people now that he and Sam had moved in, plus Dani and Elliott spent lots of time there for band practice. The only time he and Kurt were ever alone was when they went to sleep at night, but even then, just beyond their curtain partition was at least a couple of their friends.

Still, it was fun. Blaine enjoyed the new freedom of not having his parents around telling him when to go to bed or do his homework or whether he was allowed to go out with his friends or not.

He did miss his mother's cooking, but Kurt's was just as good, and Blaine found himself feeling very lucky for being engaged to such a multi-talented man.

"What are you making?" Blaine asked, coming up behind where Kurt was standing at the stove, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and nuzzling the back of his neck.

Kurt squirmed, laughing. "Tickles," he said, lifting his shoulder up and tilting his head to get Blaine away from his neck. "It's a new recipe I wanted to try. Coq au Riesling."

"Sounds fancy."

"It's just chicken with a white wine, bacon, and mushroom sauce."

"Oh, god, that sounds _delicious."_

"Here's hoping."

Blaine placed a tender kiss to the back of Kurt's neck before stepping to the side, one arm still resting around Kurt's waist. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. You're the best cook I know."

"Besides your mother."

"You're tied. It's too close to call."

"Mmm. Flatterer."

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek. "So?" Then he looked down at the food Kurt was making. "Seems a little small for all the people we have in the loft."

"It's only us tonight, babe."

Blaine paused. "Wait, you mean to tell me we have the loft to ourselves tonight?"

"I do, indeed," Kurt smiled. "Elliott is visiting Rachel at her dress rehearsal for _Funny Girl _tonight, so that's two gone. Sam is out on a date with Mercedes and said he wouldn't be back until morning, another gone. And Santana, Dani, and Brittany are all out hitting lesbian bars tonight. Santana said they'll probably go back to Dani's place afterwards."

"I'm glad Santana and Dani are able to remain friends with Brittany back in the picture."

"Dani's mature. It was an amicable break up, from what I've gathered. Actually, I think Dani may already be dating someone new, too."

"Interesting. I wouldn't think they'd all hang out together, though. Wouldn't that be awkward?"

Kurt shrugged. "Lesbians," he said in way of explanation.

Blaine laughed, nodding. "Lesbians." He looked around the loft, not truly believing they were alone. "So everyone is really gone for the night."

"Mmhmm."

"We have this whole loft to ourselves. All night."

"Yep."

"How long until dinner?"

"Not too much longer. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes."

"We're going to have sex afterwards, right?"

"Oh, honey, you have no idea what I have in store for you tonight."

Blaine grinned, turning Kurt's head and kissing him deeply. "Just what I like to hear."

Dinner was amazing, of course. Blaine couldn't help moaning as he ate, eyes rolling back into his head. Kurt kicked him under the table for teasing, so Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt again, assuring that it wasn't a tease, and he fully intended to follow through.

Unsurprisingly, they didn't even make it to the bedroom, They were half-naked before they even left the table and made it over to the couch, where they lost the rest of their clothes. Kurt pushed Blaine down to sit on the couch and crawled on top of him, straddling him. Their kisses had turned dirty by now, Kurt's hands securely holding Blaine's head while Blaine's hands grasped Kurt's ass.

And then things got weird.

A strange ringing noise, loud and high-pitched, diverted Blaine's attention. He broke away from kissing Kurt, ears perking up and eyebrows furrowing. Kurt took that as a sign to start kissing Blaine's neck, so Blaine had to place a palm against Kurt's chest and push him back a little.

"What?" Kurt asked. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The ringing sound."

"There isn't one."

"No, I swear there is. Listen."

Kurt fell silent. The ringing had gotten louder, making Blaine grimace. Kurt tilted his head, frowning. "There's no ringing noise, baby."

"There is. I can hear it."

"Maybe it's someone's cell phone frequency or something. It's not a big deal. Come on, we finally have the place to ourselves. I don't want to waste any time."

Blaine nodded, turning back to Kurt and kissing him again.

They lay in bed a couple hours later, naked and sated. Kurt dozed off almost right away, lightly snoring in a way he would never admit to. Blaine lay awake on his back, staring at the ceiling, still bothered by the ringing sound that has slowly dissolved a little while ago. In its place, there was music. Music Blaine vaguely recognized but couldn't place his finger on. He convinced himself it was from a neighboring loft, but deep down he knew that wasn't true.

Memories from years ago poked at his mind, begging to be brought to the surface. Memories of an imaginary friend he had in his freshman year of high school, and the voices he'd heard as he walked down the halls even when the halls were empty. Memories of doctors and his parents speaking in hushed voices and the medication they'd thought they'd hidden well enough in his food that he wouldn't notice.

As he fell asleep, one thought circled his mind.

_What is happening to me?_

… … …

The next day, the loft was back to its usual level of noise and population. Rachel was in the shower singing scales, Sam was at the mirror by the door practicing impressions and striking poses, Santana was yelling in Spanish over the phone, Brittany was watching TV at a high volume, and Kurt was nowhere to be found.

A regular Saturday morning in the McKinley Loft, as he'd decided to call it.

Blaine headed over to the fridge, finding a folded piece of paper hung up with a magnet that had his name on the front in Kurt's neat cursive.

_Went to the guitar store with Elliott for a lesson. Be back later. Love you._

Blaine left the note on the counter and poured himself a glass of orange juice, choosing to sit next to Brittany on the couch.

"What're you watching?" Blaine asked, seeing a commercial for tampons with a girl in a white bikini do cartwheels on the beach.

"The news," Brittany answered.

"I didn't think you watched the news."

"Lots of things happen in the world, Blaine Warbler. You should always be aware."

Blaine nodded, surprised. "Good point."

They watched the news together for a while, listening as the anchors told stories about recent rapes and mugging, then went to international news and talked about the things happening in the Middle East and Russia.

Then another strange thing happened that chilled Blaine to his bone.

The news anchor paused, staring right at Blaine. "They're coming for you," she said.

Blaine frowned, leaning forward and staring at the TV.

"That's right. They're coming for you, Blaine. There's no use running. They'll find you."

Blaine shut his eyes, squeezing them tight and shaking his head before opening them again.

A commercial with dancing chocolate chips advertising Chips Ahoy! was playing. Blaine sat back on the couch, breathing heavily. He imagined it, obviously. That was indisputable. But it felt so real, the way it played out on the screen before him, the way the news anchor's eyes bore right into him.

He tried to put it out of his mind. Santana soon hung up the phone and plopped down on the couch next to Brittany, leaning her head on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany wrapped an arm around Santana's shoulders and played with her hair.

After a while, Rachel had finished her shower and gotten dressed in her diner uniform, heading to work. Kurt came back shortly after that, Elliott right behind him. Elliott headed for the kitchen while Kurt went straight for Blaine, smiling and sitting on his lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Hey, sleepy head. I see you're still in your pajamas."

Was he? Blaine looked down, noting that yes, he was still in his favourite green plaid flannel pajama pants and a white tank top. "Yeah. It's still early."

"It's past noon, silly."

"It's a Saturday. That's early."

Kurt hummed his amusement, carding a hand through Blaine's un-gelled hair. "How are you?"

Blaine didn't have an adequate answer for that, not with how weird things had been. "I'm…" he trailed off, dropping the question. "How was your guitar lesson?"

"It was fun," Kurt said slowly, giving Blaine an odd look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—I'm going to take a shower," Blaine said, nudging Kurt off his lap and standing up.

"Want me to come with you?" Kurt called as Blaine walked away.

"No, it's okay, I won't be long."

Blaine stood under the shower spray, leaning his head against the tiled wall of the shower. Something was wrong with him. Something was off. He couldn't put his finger on what, but he knew it was something.

_You're crazy._

Blaine immediately straightened up, looking around. He stuck his head out of the shower curtain, but no one else was in the bathroom. The voice wasn't one of the loft mates, anyway. It wasn't a voice he recognized at all.

_That's what's wrong with you. You're crazy._

He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn't happening again. He shook his head, muttering to himself. "It's okay. It's not happening again. It was just the one time when I was younger, but it's over now. Nothing is wrong. I am perfectly fine."

_You're perfectly crazy._

Blaine sighed, choosing to ignore the voice. He finished his shower, then stepped out and dried himself, wrapping the towel around his hips and heading back into his and Kurt's room to get dressed.

When he stepped back into the living room, they had changed the channel and were watching some medical show. Elliott was sitting perched by the windowsill on the far side of the room, Sam was in the armchair, and Santana and Brittany were sitting just as Blaine had left them. Kurt was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich.

"Have a good shower?" Kurt asked as Blaine joined him at the table.

Blaine quickly forgot the question at the overwhelming smell that suddenly invaded his nose. He coughed, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. "Oh, my god, what is that?"

Kurt frowned, setting down his sandwich. "What?"

"That smell. God, its like…like, something rotten doused in gasoline. Jesus. You don't smell that?"

Kurt's eyes glanced behind Blaine then flitted back to him, staring at him. "No. I don't smell anything."

Blaine turned around to see everyone staring at him. "You guys don't smell that?"

"Smell what, Blaine?" Elliott asked.

"It's like rotten eggs and paint thinner," he managed, gagging at the smell.

He quickly shot up from the table and left the loft, running down the stairs to outside, getting fresh air. He breathed deeply, inhaling the smells of outside. They weren't much better—it was New York, after all—but it was preferable to what he'd just smelled in the loft.

_They don't smell anything because you're crazy._

Blaine shut his eyes, knocking the back of his head against the brick wall of the loft building.

_See that guy over there? _a new voice asked.

Blaine frowned, opening his eyes and looking across the street at a fruit vendor. The guy looked harmless enough.

_He works for the government. He's here to steal your thoughts. He's going to play them on the TV. You're not crazy; this is real._

_Don't listen to her! You're crazy! Listen to me! _

_He's trying to trick you! He wants your thoughts in the world! He wants people to think you're crazy! You're not!_

_You are!_

Blaine groaned and slid his fingers into his hair, pulling at it, trying to make the voices stop, willing them to go away. The ringing noise he'd heard the night before came back, drowning out the voices and taking over everything else. It was getting louder, louder, louder.

A hand on Blaine's shoulder made him jump, letting go of his hair and opening his eyes. His arms dropped uselessly to his sides as he stared at Kurt.

"Blaine? What's the matter? Talk to me, honey, what's happening?" Kurt looked so concerned, so scared and worried for Blaine's well-being.

Blaine shook his head. "Everything's fine. I'm sorry, I'm just—I'm stressed. From college. I didn't expect it to be this hard."

Kurt frowned. "Blaine, come on. The curriculum at Dalton was harder than college. What's really going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just having a bad day. Let's go back up to the loft and watch TV with the others."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, come on."

Blaine turned and headed for the door, going back up the stairs. He could tell Kurt didn't quite believe him, but he didn't care. The ringing was still piercing in his ears, but at least the voices had stopped.

For now.

… … …

The voices came back.

It'd been two weeks that Blaine had been enduring them. A couple more joined, each with a distinct message of their own. There was the one that insisted he was crazy, and the one that insisted he wasn't but he was being watched by the government, then there was the one that insisted he kill himself, and the one that insisted he kill everyone else.

Blaine did his best to ignore them, but sometimes they spoke louder than his friends did and he missed giant chunks of conversations with them. They all stared at him, but Kurt would divert their attention and try to continue on as normal.

Kurt wasn't stupid. Blaine knew that Kurt knew that something was going on.

Everything came to a head one evening during band practice. The whole gang was there—Rachel, Elliott, Kurt, Dani, Santana, and even Sam and Brittany who weren't in the band but wanted to be there anyway. Blaine sat on the couch between the two, listening to Pamela Landsbury run through a few numbers for an upcoming gig.

After a big rock number, Kurt picked up his water bottle from the coffee table and told everyone to take five.

_See that one over there? The boy with the earrings? He's after your fiancé. You have to kill him._

_Yes! He's part of the government. He's a spy. He's getting in with the people closest with you so he can take you down. Stop him! Stop him now!_

_You'd be better off just killing yourself. Getting it over with now. There are knives in the kitchen. You can slit your wrists._

Blaine groaned, shaking his head and shutting his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. "No," he muttered. "Just leave me alone."

_We can't. Because you're crazy. You're crazy, Blaine. Did you know that?_

"Stop," he said, quietly.

He looked up when he felt hands on his knees. Kurt was kneeling in front of him, frowning. "What's wrong, Blaine?" He used that same tone of voice he'd been using for weeks every time he asked Blaine this question, or some variation on it.

"Nothing," Blaine said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

"If there's something happening," Kurt said, voice pitched low so no one around them could hear, "you need to tell me. I'm your fiancé, Blaine. Talk to me."

_He just wants you to admit you're crazy so he can laugh at you._

_Did you see the way he was talking to Elliott? He obviously wants to break up with you. You're worthless. You should just kill yourself._

_No, kill him! Kill him and that snake trying to steal him. Kill them all, Blaine._

Elliott came over, laying a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "You okay, buddy?"

_Don't let him touch you! He's stealing your thoughts! He's going to put them on the TV for everyone to hear!_

"Don't touch me!" Blaine shouted, taking several steps back, away from Elliott.

The whole room was openly staring at him now. Their expressions ranged from confused to scared to shocked.

"He—he's trying to steal my thoughts," Blaine explained, weak and pleading. "He's going to play them. Let everybody hear them."

Kurt took a few hesitant steps toward Blaine, holding his hands out. "Blaine, you're not making any sense."

Blaine continued muttering to himself. "Going to play them. Going to steal my thoughts. Let everyone here. Tell everyone I'm crazy. He works for them. He—he wants to steal you—wants to steal Kurt, make everyone hate me. Everyone hate me. Got beat up at Sadie Hawkins. Went to prom. Wore a tux. I'm getting married."

He looked up at Kurt, eyes big and worried. "You're still marrying me, right?"

"Yeah, Blaine," Kurt said slowly, approaching him. "I'm still marrying you."

Kurt took both of Blaine's hands in his, squeezing reassuringly.

"What's wrong with him?" Santana asked.

Blaine quickly turned his gaze towards Santana, frowning. He opened his mouth to say something, to say he was fine, to say something, except—

His mind went blank. What had just happened? What had he been about to say? Everyone was looking at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for him to answer a question. He looked around at them, frowning.

"What?"

Sam stood up and joined Kurt, standing before Blaine, watching him. Sam leaned in toward Kurt, said quietly, "I think we need to take him to the hospital, Kurt. Something is seriously wrong with him."

_Don't let them take you there! The blonde one is one of them—he works for them! He's trying to take you to them! Don't go!_

Blaine ripped his hands away from Kurt's, taking several steps back. "No. You can't make me go. You're not taking me to them!"

"Blaine, it's okay," Sam said, stepping towards him again.

_Grab a knife! Protect yourself! Kill him if you must!"_

Blaine turned towards the kitchen counter and grabbed a knife from the wooden block, holding it out. "Don't! Don't come near me!"

He was hysterical, wielding the knife. Sam hurriedly backed away, going to stand by the window, as far from Blaine as possible. "Take it easy, man, it's okay."

Brittany had stood and was clutching onto Santana. Dani and Elliott were back in the corner. Rachel stood still at the microphone she'd been rehearsing at, frozen, unmoving.

Kurt held his hands up and took a tentative step towards Blaine. "Hey, Blaine, it's just me, alright? Look, baby, it's me."

Blaine focused on Kurt, nodding slowly.

"Can you put the knife down for me? Will you do that?"

_Don't do it. It's a trap._

"No," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I need it. They're trying to hurt me."

"Who, Blaine? Who's trying to hurt you?"

Blaine pointed at Sam first, then at Elliott.

Kurt shook his head, talking slow and soft. "No, those are you friends. That's Sam, he's your best friend, remember? And that's Elliott. He's in my band. He's nice to you. He's not trying to hurt you."

"They work for them."

"For who, Blaine?"

"The government. They're trying to take me in. They're trying to lock me up."

"I won't let that happen to you, okay? I won't let anyone take you away. I won't let them come near you. But I need you to put the knife down, okay?"

The ringing again. Loud and clear, piercing his ears. Blaine let go of the knife, letting it drop on the floor beside him as he reached up his hands to cover his ears. The ringing was loud, louder than the voices had been. It drowned out all other noise. He fell to the floor, ducking his head between his knees and rocking back and forth, waiting for it to stop.

"Call 911," he thought he heard someone say through the noise.

There was a flurry of movement around him. He felt someone drop down in front of him, hands tentatively reaching out and touching Blaine's hands. He looked up, face to face with Kurt.

"Hey, it's okay," Kurt was saying, soft and comforting even though his face looked terrified. "It's okay. I'm right here."

The ringing stopped. Everything stopped. The voices were gone, and Blaine felt like he could breathe normally again. "Kurt?"

"Yeah. It's alright. I'm right here, Blaine. I'm here for you. It's okay."

And suddenly Blaine was crying. "They wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop talking. They were messing with my head—telling me things."

"Who, Blaine?"

"The voices."

Kurt's mouth pressed into a thin line. "How long have you been hearing these voices, Blaine?"

"I don't know. A couple weeks or so. And there's the ringing—the ringing. It's so loud, so high, it hurts my eardrums."

"Alright, okay. It's going to be okay. Are the voices saying anything now?"

"No. They stopped."

"Okay. It's gonna be okay."

Blaine shuddered, crawling into Kurt's lap and sobbing into his shirt. He clutched the back of Kurt's shirt in fistfuls and rested his forehead against Kurt's shoulder, curling up as small as he could get. Kurt rocked him back and forth, rubbing circles on his back with one hand and cradling the back of Blaine's head securely in the other.

Paramedics came after a while. They took Blaine's vitals, then asked him questions. Kurt answered most of them. Once they assessed the situation, they insisted Blaine lay on the stretcher and come to the hospital. Blaine was so scared, at a loss of what to do, that he complied. The voices would yell at him later for it. Kurt rode in the ambulance with him, holding his hand the entire way.

… … …

Schizophrenic.

After a barrage of tests and questions aimed at his parents, who had flown in as soon as Kurt called them from the hospital, Blaine had been diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The doctor explained to Blaine what that meant, using symptoms Blaine had already experienced as examples. They discussed different treatments, the doctor giving him medication and explaining that he'd have to take it every day now.

Kurt was supportive, more so than Blaine could have ever asked him to be. He stayed with Blaine for all the tests, all the consults, and held his hand the whole way. None of his friends had visited him at the hospital, but Kurt said they were just too afraid after what had happened. Blaine felt ashamed, but he couldn't blame them. He pointed a knife at them all.

He was crazy. At least one of the voices was right. Blaine was crazy, certifiable. He was on medication and would have to do different types of therapy. This was something he would have to suffer and struggle with for the rest of his life.

"You don't have to stay," Blaine said quietly to Kurt one night in the hospital.

Kurt frowned, looking from the issue of _Vogue _he had spread in his lap. "What?"

"I'm giving you your ticket out. This is…this is a lot. This is more than either of us bargained for. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Kurt reached forward and took Blaine's hand in both of his, scooting his chair closer to Blaine's hospital bed. "I'm not going anywhere. For sickness and in health, 'til death do us part. I'm not leaving you, Blaine."

"We're not married yet, Kurt. You haven't made that vow. You don't have to abide by it."

"Well I am. You're my soulmate, and I love you, and I'm not going anywhere. Would you leave me, if it were me in your situation? If it were me who heard voices?"

"No," Blaine answered immediately. Honestly. "I couldn't."

"Then there's your answer. Scoot over." Kurt stood up, joining Blaine in the bed, wrapping his arms around him. "I love you. No matter what, I love you."

"I love you too," Blaine said, voice breaking.

He cried, allowing Kurt to hold him and comfort him. Things would never be the same again. Everything was different now, and Blaine didn't even know if he had friends anymore.

But he still had Kurt. And that was enough to get him through anything.


	10. The Klaine Channel

_Klaine as famous YouTubers that are still in high school going to VidCon. (They own the channel together)._

… … …

"Let's start a YouTube channel," Blaine said.

Kurt frowned but kept his focus on the open history textbook in front of him. "What?"

"A YouTube channel. We can post videos."

"About what?"

"Anything, really. I was thinking I'd do book reviews, but you could do something else."

"Like what?" Kurt asked, sitting up fully and giving Blaine his whole attention. Kurt could tell this was something Blaine had really thought about, which meant it was important to him, and by extension important to Kurt.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever you want to do." He looked excited about the idea, but Kurt couldn't really see the appeal.

"And what is this for?"

"Just for people to watch. I don't know, I was thinking I'd read books that I see in the hallways a lot, and then make a video discussing the book, and then leave the comments section open for further discussion. It would encourage critical thinking in leisurely reading among youth."

Kurt gave Blaine a look he was sure was a mixture between confusion and amusement. "You sound like a college professor."

"If you think it's a dumb idea, just say it. We don't have to do it," Blaine said, face falling. And god, that face, it was like Kurt had kicked a puppy.

He scooted closer to Blaine on the bed, reaching for his hand. "No, no, I don't think it's stupid, I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard. I'd never given this any sort of thought, but you clearly have, so give me some time to think about it, yeah?"

"Okay," Blaine said, smiling again. "Yeah, that makes sense. You can think about it."

So that's what Kurt did. He weighed the pros and cons of the idea, but found that there weren't really any cons to it. The worst thing that could happen would be that their channel would be a dud and no one would watch it, which really wasn't all that bad in the grand scheme of things. And if it took off, if it became really popular, this could only help their careers in the future.

Still, Kurt didn't know what he'd make videos about. Blaine seemed to have a solid idea for himself, and it worked, but Kurt wasn't so self-assured. What did he have to contribute that would be interesting to a wide audience? His interests varied from fashion to music to cooking. There was no one thing he could think of to hone in on.

A week later, only the third week of school, Kurt approached Blaine at his locker and put a hand on his shoulder. "Okay. Let's do it. Let's do the channel."

"Really?" Blaine said, immediately perking up. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I've given it a lot of thought, and there's no real downside here. There is a problem I have, though."

"What?"

"I don't know what to make my own videos about. I was thinking of something maybe fashion, or music, or cooking, but I can't decide on one."

"Well, why not do all of them?" Blaine asked, switching out his math textbook for his science textbook.

"All of them?"

"Sure. You could alternate every week between a video reviewing a newly released music album, and then one about new fashion trends, and then you could set up your laptop in the kitchen and do a cooking tutorial."

Kurt mulled it over, nodding to himself. "Oh. Yeah, that seems fine. What would we call our channel, though? It has to have a name, doesn't it?"

"Not necessarily, but I've thought of a name for it. You don't have to agree, it's just something I was playing with, but since it's our combined channel, I thought I'd combine our names. So I kind of like The Klaine Channel."

"The Klaine Channel?" Kurt rolled it around in his mouth, finding that it seemed more silly than anything.

"Like I said, we don't have to use it."

"No, no, I like it! It's cute and fun. Just like us." Kurt chanced a glance around, noticing that the few people left in the hallway weren't paying any attention to them, and leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Definitely."

Kurt turned and walked away toward class, shaking his head at how silly his boyfriend could be at times. But he'd be damned if he said he didn't love him.

For a while, it was only Blaine posting videos. He reviewed a lot of popular books, and to Kurt's surprise, got a big response. They had 500 subscribers to their channel by the time Kurt even thought about making his first video. Well, technically, he hadn't thought about it. He couldn't make up his mind about what he wanted to say, really. It was only with Blaine's prompting that he considered what he'd do first.

"You know, you haven't made a video yet," Blaine pointed out, playing footsie with Kurt under their table at the Lima Bean.

Kurt sighed. "I know. I just haven't figured out what I want to say yet."

"You can say anything, babe. It's our channel to say what we want."

"I just want to talk about something that people will be interested to hear and discuss. This channel seems so important to you that I want to do it right."

Blaine smiled and reached a hand across the table, taking Kurt's in his. "This channel is only important to me because it's something we can do together. In less than a year, you'll be in New York and I'll still be stuck here. This is a way for us to stay connected even when we're apart."

"Oh." Kurt gave Blaine a small smile, tilting his head to the side. "I didn't think of that."

"Mmm. That's why I wanted to start this. It's for an audience, yes, but it's mainly about us. That's why I wanted to call it The Klaine Channel."

"You're sweet," Kurt said, brushing over Blaine's knuckles with his thumb.

"I just love you."

"I just love you, too."

With the extra encouragement, Kurt was even more determined to get it right. His first video was about fashion, predicting which trends would be popular in the spring based on widespread speculation, leaked photos, and past trends. Then, with his second video, Kurt chose to discuss the speculation that there would be a movie recreation of _Wicked, _highlighting both the pros and cons to such a production. His third video, he brought in his laptop to the kitchen like Blaine suggested and tried a new recipe he'd found on Pinterest.

It was strange at first to get the hang of talking to an audience that wasn't there, but as he did more videos, Kurt got used to it. The editing program that Blaine showed him wasn't too difficult to manage, and to his delight, his videos got just as warm a reception as Blaine's.

In the world of famous YouTubers, though, Kurt and Blaine were still fairly small scale. Their channel only had about 10,000 subscribers, compared to the millions that others had.

Kurt found it very interesting that the video that put them on the map was the video he was most skeptical about.

"Come on, come sit on my lap," Blaine said, patting his legs.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, it's risky enough doing a video of us together, I'm not sitting on your lap."

"Just do it! I promise, the internet will love us. We'll be a sensation. With homosexuality being more widely accepted, society loves seeing gay couples be all cute together."

Kurt sighed, but went ahead and sat in Blaine's lap anyway, wrapping one arm around Blaine's neck. "Yeah? Is that was this video is? Us being cute together?"

"Mmhmm. And I'm starting it now."

Before Kurt could protest, Blaine had clicked the button on his computer screen and the video was recording.

Kurt gasped and smacked Blaine playfully on the chest. "I didn't say you could start it!"

"I warned you!"

"Two seconds before you clicked start!"

"Well it's already started so deal with it."

"You're impossible."

"But you love me anyway."

"Yeah, yeah." Kurt paused, looking over to the webcam and then back at Blaine. "So what are we supposed to be talking about?"

"I don't know. Do something entertaining."

"This was your idea! You do something entertaining!"

"Okay," Blaine said, smirking. He leaned forward and kissed Kurt deeply, weaving his hand through the hair behind Kurt's ear and letting his thumb rest just in front of his ear. Blaine almost always put his hand there every time they kissed.

Kurt couldn't help smiling into it, laughing as he broke away. "That's not what I meant, dummy."

"But I'm you're dummy."

"Oh, you're something, alright."

"Babyyyyy," Blaine said, drawing it out and whining, pouting his lip.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "Baby, baby, baby," he sang. "It's always 'baby' when you want something."

"But I always call you baby."

"Yeah, because you always want something."

Blaine smirked and sang in his best Lady GaGa impression, "I want your love. Love, love, love, I want your love."

Kurt nudged Blaine but couldn't help his laughter. "You have my love, you big goofball."

"Good."

Kurt shook his head but leaned down to kiss Blaine again, smiling. He still couldn't wrap his head around how lucky he was to have Blaine in his life, and it was moments like these that made him really grateful for his dummy goofball boyfriend.

That video, completely unedited and uploaded as it was, went viral and jumped them up to over 100,000 subscribers. Really, though they'd uploaded several individual videos, it was their video together that really made them popular. Blaine told Kurt about the different social media platforms he'd promoted them on, but it was Tumblr that helped the most. Kurt had no idea what Tumblr was or how it worked, but apparently about 57,000 people liked their video and had shared it with their friends, which jumped the views on that video alone up to 500,000 views.

And it just kept rising.

Kurt had been afraid, at first, that a video of them being coupley and lovey and kissing would cause a lot of controversy. He'd expected a lot of hateful comments that pointed him to the bible or told him he was going to hell. Instead, the overwhelming majority was positive. Everyone told them how cute they were and asked questions about their relationship. The negative comments they did get received enough down votes and were reported so often that they were hidden as spam.

Maybe the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

Still, over the next few months, the way their channel had taken off never ceased to amaze Kurt. They were getting thousands of new subscribers every day. A lot of the comments requested certain videos from each of them separately and together. One comment requested that Kurt do a cooking video with Blaine helping, so he did.

It got over 250,000 views on the first day.

And really, it was just Kurt trying to be serious and teach people how to cook while Blaine followed him around, pinching his butt and wrapping his arms around him and kissing him, messy and sweet. They were making cupcakes, so of course when Blaine stuck his finger in the icing bowl to get a taste, Kurt stuck his finger in and tapped a bit of the chocolate raspberry creme icing onto Blaine's nose, who then leaned forward and rubbed his nose all over Kurt's cheek.

It was a messy cooking session and a pain in Kurt's ass practically speaking, but the video was a hit and everybody loved them. They still continued their individual videos, but they started doing videos together more often. They sat down together in one video to tell the story of their relationship, which got lots of sweet comments. Kurt knew their story was special, sure, but he never dreamed anyone else would care.

Early on in February, Blaine appeared at Kurt's locker practically vibrating with excitement. Kurt laughed, ignoring the impulse to check behind Blaine for a wagging tail before asking, "What are you so excited about?"

"Guess."

"Blaine, I have no idea. Did one of our videos get really popular again?"

"Even better! I mean, it relates to that, but it's even _more _exciting than that!"

"What? Just tell me already!"

"We have been invited to do a meet and greet session at VidCon as the new up-and-comers in the vlogger world!"

Kurt blinked, smiling hesitantly. "I only understood about half of that."

"VidCon is this convention where a lot of the YouTube stars go and do meet and greet sessions and talk to their fans and answer questions and stuff. Sometimes they announce big news, too, but we don't have any so that's okay."

"We could announce that we're getting married. The crowd would go wild."

"We're not engaged, babe."

"Yet," Kurt said, winking.

Blaine smiled softly. "We can continue our marriage talk later—because you know how much I love talking about our future together—but for now, what do you say? To VidCon?"

"Sure, let's do it. It sounds fun," Kurt answered, grabbing his afternoon binder from his locker. "Where is it?"

"That's the sticky part. It's in Anaheim, California."

Kurt closed his locker door and stared at his boyfriend. "Blaine! It's in California? You should have led with that! There's no way we'll be allowed to go!"

"No, but okay, everything is paid for! The plane tickets, the hotel room, the food! And it's in the summer, so we wouldn't miss school!"

"You're out of your mind. My dad will never agree to it, and I doubt your parents would either."

"Let me handle my parents and then we can talk to Burt together."

"If you say so."

Blaine's parents were a little difficult to convince, but not much. In the end they agreed to let him go if Kurt's dad would go with them. Which was a smart move on Blaine's part, because Kurt knew there was no way his dad was going to let them go alone, and the suggestion that Burt accompany them would placate all parental figures.

Theoretically.

In reality, Burt was a lot harder to convince.

He shook his head, sitting in his recliner while Blaine and Kurt sat on the couch. "No. No way."

"But Dad, okay, listen. It's really not that bad. The convention itself is only three days, so we'd fly out there the day before and leave the day after. We'd only be there for five days. Plus, it's in the summer, so we wouldn't be missing school. And everything is paid for."

"You think I'm going to let you two fly across the country to attend some internet gathering or whatever of a bunch of people who have watched you two kiss each other on video? You're painting a target on your back for someone to attack the both of you."

"There are security guards, Burt," Blaine cut in. "I was concerned at first too, but the organizers of the event assured me that there would be security guards watching us and standing by during our meet and greet session. And if you come, too, then you can be an extra guard, so to speak. You'll be able to keep watch over Kurt and make sure he's safe."

"I'm worried about you too, kiddo," Burt said, making Blaine smile.

Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's knee, smiling at him, before returning his attention to his dad. "I know it's kind of crazy, but this is a really cool opportunity for us. We've been doing these videos for months and people seem to really like us. This could be a launching pad for our careers in show business, even if it's just silly YouTube videos. Please let us go, Dad."

Burt sighed. "What about Blaine's parents? What did they say?"

"They said I could go as long as you came with us," Blaine told him.

Burt sat forward in his chair and got the look Kurt recognized as his deliberating look, when he was deciding whether to make all of Kurt's dreams come true or crush them.

He stood up. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but alright. We can go to this video convocation or whatever."

"VidCon," Kurt swiftly corrected, jumping up to hug his father. "And thank you, thank you! You're the best, Dad."

"Yeah, yeah. You boys wanna order some pizza for dinner?"

"Definitely. Make sure you order a large one just for Finn, though."

"I know. The kid shovels more food in his mouth than a bulldozer."

Kurt smiled fondly and turned to Blaine as his father left the room. "We're going to VidCon!"

"We are!" Blaine said, laughing. "I'm surprised you're this excited! You weren't at first."

"What can I say? Your spirit is infectious. I can't believe we have enough fans to even qualify for this sort of thing."

"Oh, you have no idea. You should see our Tumblr. We get over 100 messages every day. And you wouldn't believe how many followers we have."

The next several months leading up to VidCon were long, dragging on forever. Blaine was the one corresponding with the organizers of the event for the both of them, but he always CC-ed Kurt in the emails. Their meet and greet was set up for 2:15-3:00 on the second day, leaving the first and third days for them to explore and visit other meet and greet sessions by more well known vloggers.

They continued making videos, Kurt covering a wide range of topics and Blaine still focusing on the literary world. Eventually, having saved up enough allowance, Blaine bought a camcorder, which he decided to take with them on dates and outings to cut and make a video out of. Those got even more popular because it wasn't just Kurt and Blaine in their room or in the kitchen, it was them out in the world being happy and together and brave enough to show that.

Blaine showed Kurt the several messages they got on Tumblr about how their bravery to be who they were and show their love in public gave other kids the courage to come out to their parents, their peers. It was the way they were really making a difference that struck Kurt. He never imagined that two silly gay boys in love in a small Ohio town would have such an impact, but they did. Their relationship was an inspiration to such a large group of people.

It brought tears to Kurt's eyes. He tried to hide it, but Blaine saw, because Blaine always saw the things Kurt tried to hide. He just smiled and rubbed Kurt's back and said, "I know. Me too." It was as simple as that.

Blaine, of course, recorded Kurt's high school graduation. That video they didn't upload. It was a memory just for them and their family. It was nice, though, to be able to capture it on film.

The next few weeks passed with Blaine almost always bouncy and jittery, ready to go to California and VidCon. Since Anaheim was only about a half hour drive from LA, Blaine even convinced Cooper to come to their meet and greet, which would make it extra special for him. Kurt knew how much Blaine missed his brother now that they'd reconciled and he was glad they'd be able to see each other.

True to form, Blaine had his camcorder out almost the second it was safe to do so on the flight. He pointed it at Kurt, who protested and snatched it away and pointed it back at Blaine. They squabbled for a second before Burt snapped at them to put the thing away so he could sleep in peace. (Burt was not a particularly good flyer, as was evident in the death grip he had on his armrests well after they'd taken off).

When they got there, they checked in at the hotel and went up to drop their luggage off in their rooms. There had been a moment where Burt had been stuck with a dilemma: either room with his son and his son's boyfriend, who would be sharing a bed less than two feet from him, or get his own room and leave his son and his son's boyfriend to share a bed on their own in a hotel room alone. There was no winning for Burt, but in the end, he decided to let them have their own room.

Then they got to go to the convention center and check in at VidCon, meeting up with the coordinators of the whole thing. They got passes and bracelets and badges to wear, announcing who they were and what their channel was. Then they got to go around and explore the booths and various attractions of the convention.

That first night in their hotel room, they had amazing sex on the luxurious queen-sized hotel bed, then again in the shower.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," Blaine said, thrusting into Kurt against the tiled shower wall.

"Having sex? Yeah, me too," Kurt replied, smirking at himself. Then Blaine hit that spot inside of him that made him see stars and he gasped. "_Oh, _harder."

Blaine sped up, grasping Kurt's hips. "No—I mean, yeah, sex. But, like, this convention. VidCon. I'm glad we're here together. It's a nice way to spend our time together before you go off to New York in a month."

Kurt smiled, reaching a hand behind Blaine's head and turning his own to kiss Blaine. It was an awkward angle, but they managed.

The next day, they stayed in bed later than necessary, cuddling and kissing and talking about nothing. They finally got out of bed when Burt knocked on their door and told them to hurry up and get dressed. They threw on their coordinating outfits that Kurt had picked out special for the occasion and styled their hair side-by-side in the mirror quickly.

It didn't take them too long to get ready, and then they were heading out to the convention center. They watched a couple other meet and greet sessions, and then before they knew it, it was time for theirs. The audience waiting for them was smaller than some of the others they'd gone to, but not as small as Kurt had thought. They still had at least a few hundred people sitting in the chairs, waiting for them.

As they made their way onto the platform and sat down at the table, the crowd cheered and clapped. Kurt grabbed the bottle of water set out for him and glanced over at his dad, who looked pretty in awe at the whole thing.

"Hey, guys," Blaine said into the microphone, smiling. "It's a good day to be in California, am I right?"

The crowd laughed and clapped.

"Do you see your brother?" Kurt asked Blaine, looking around.

"Oh, yeah, my brother Cooper is supposed to be here. You out there, Coop?"

Cooper was sitting in the middle of a crowd of girls towards the back. He smiled and waved, then stood up and gave a bow.

"Yeah, that's Cooper for you," Blaine said, laughing. "This isn't about you, Coop."

"It can be!" Cooper called back. "A gathered audience is always an opportunity for a true artist to shine!"

Blaine just laughed again and shook his head.

"Well, my dad's here too," Kurt said, glancing over at him. "We were only allowed to come if we invited him."

"I think he secretly wants to be a YouTube star too," Blaine said.

"Oh, he can barely text, much less upload a video on the internet," Kurt said. Burt gave Kurt a stern look that only made Kurt laugh. "Sorry, Dad!"

"Don't worry, Burt, I have faith in you. I think you'd be a great vlogger!" Blaine said.

Kurt laughed. "Sucking up to the in-law, folks. Never a bad idea."

"Burt loves me," Blaine said. Then he looked over at Kurt's dad and smiled. "Don't you, Burt?"

Kurt's dad shrugged, but his expression was teasing. Blaine brought a hand to his chest like he was wounded. "Ouch. I'm hurt."

"You know he loves you," Kurt said, smiling and patting Blaine on the back comfortingly.

"I know. So do you."

"Damn straight."

They met in the middle for a short, sweet kiss, then pulled away laughing when the audience cheered and cooed.

"Okay, well, I think now would be a good time for questions!" Blaine said. A bunch of hands shot up. Blaine pointed to a girl with short brown hair and a pink t-shirt. "You! Go ahead!"

"What pet names do you guys have for each other? I know you call each other 'baby' a lot, but are there any others?"

"We both use 'babe' or 'baby' a lot, yeah," Blaine answered. "Kurt likes to call me 'honey' and 'sweetheart' too, and I call him 'dear' quite often. We don't have any weird or special ones, though."

"Oh, are you sure about that, Blainey Bear?" Kurt said, laughing.

Blaine shoved him playfully. "Get out. You never call me that."

"Now is as good a time as any to start."

"I'm going to call you Kurtie-kins if you do."

Kurt paused. "I surrender."

"Mmm. That's what I thought."

Kurt shook his head, then looked out for another question. He pointed to a girl with blonde hair towards the back. "Yeah, you! What's your question?"

"What made you guys decide to start the channel?"

"Well," Kurt started, looking to Blaine. "It was Blaine's idea. I wasn't sure about it at first. I didn't know why anyone would be interested in anything that we had to say, or why they'd want to watch two silly gay boys in Ohio. But it was important to Blaine, and I could see that when he first suggested the idea, so it was important to me."

"Aww, good answer," Blaine said, smiling and kissing Kurt on the cheek. "Yeah, I mean, the idea was kind of half-baked at best when I came up with it, but I know the guys who created this whole event—John and Hank Green—they're just brothers who wanted a way to keep in touch with each other while they were apart. Kurt is moving to another state next month, and I'll still be in Ohio finishing high school. I wanted a way for us to stay connected even after Kurt left."

"And then, in only one more year, Blaine will be in New York with me, and we'll take a whole new state by storm," Kurt added, smiling.

Blaine smiled back. "Very true."

They held hands on top of the table, taking more questions from the audience. They'd both been pointedly ignoring Cooper's hand every time it shot up, but after a while, Cooper started bouncing out of his seat and acting like an idiot, so Blaine was forced to call on him just to get him to cut it out.

"Yes, Coop?" Blaine asked.

"If your question has anything to do with our sex life, you better put your hand right back down, Cooper Michael Anderson," Kurt snapped.

Cooper sank back down into his seat and let his hand fall limply into his lap.

Kurt looked over to his dad and added pointedly, "The sex life that Blaine and I absolutely do not have because we are teenagers and not yet old enough to understand the emotional intricacies of engaging in sexual activities."

Burt only rolled his eyes and did a shooing motion at Kurt, silently telling him to focus on their crowd again.

They took a lot of questions and sometimes went on tangents with their answers, sharing stories or getting caught up in the playful banter that marked their relationship. After a while, one of the workers of the event gave them the signal to wrap it up, so Blaine pointed into the crowd for one last question.

A boy stood up near the back with neatly styled blonde hair and glasses. "Yeah, I just wanted to know, how do you guys deal with homophobia out in the world? You seem fairly affectionate in public—more so than the average gay couple—and I was wondering how you two handle it when homophobes come up to you and say something?"

Blaine looked over at Kurt, then said, "Well, it doesn't happen too often. We are affectionate, yes, but mainly when we're alone or there aren't a lot of people around. We used to be very distant with each other in public, but then we both decided that we didn't want to hide what we have. The few times we've had homophobes come up to us, I'd say we generally just let them say what they feel necessary and then walk away."

"Sometimes we do reply," Kurt added. "Blaine and I have both said a few choice words to people who come up and tell us we're wrong. A lot of times, though, when a person comes up to us and says something like, 'You're going to hell,' my response is, 'See you there.'" The crowd cheered, which made Kurt pause, but when they quieted again he continued. "I personally don't believe in god, but if they're going around spreading hate, that's the opposite of their teachings, from what I've gathered."

"God is love," Blaine continued, finishing. "And I don't think that God would look down on Kurt and I and be anything but proud."

The crowd cheered for them again, clapping loudly and whistling.

"Thank you for having us!" Kurt said into the microphone before standing up and walking with Blaine off the platform.

Everyone continued cheering and clapping as they went into the corner to stand with Kurt's dad. Then the workers started ushering them out of the room. Cooper came over and joined them, giving Blaine a big hug immediately, and then Kurt.

"I'm proud of you two," Cooper said, smiling. "You guys did a hell of a job."

"People seem to really like you," Burt added.

"Told you," Kurt said.

The four of them went out to dinner that night, catching up with Cooper and talking about the convention and the questions they'd gotten. Burt was surprised, having no idea that Kurt and Blaine were as popular as they were. Cooper threatened that if Blaine got famous before he did, there would be trouble, but Blaine just shook his head and laughed at him. Most of the time Cooper was so ridiculous all you could do was laugh.

On the third day of VidCon, Kurt and Blaine were recognized all day long. They went around holding hands and had to constantly stop to take pictures with fans. It was really weird, but Kurt figured he'd have to get used to it if this was to be his future as a successful actor on Broadway.

Their last night before they were set to fly back to Ohio, Blaine nudged Kurt in their bed, smiling at him in the dark as they lay on their sides facing each other. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"Admit that I was right. That making a YouTube channel and coming to VidCon was a good idea."

Kurt rolled his eyes. He hated admitting when Blaine was right, because he'd flaunt it for the next month. But still, there was no avoiding it.

"Fine," Kurt said, scooting closer so his face was only inches away from Blaine's. "You were right."

"And?"

"_And_," Kurt sighed. "You win."

"Ha!" Blaine said, grinning. "I win, I win, I win!" he sang, wiggling underneath the covers and drumming his fingers on Kurt's back where his arm lay across Kurt's waist.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Shut up and kiss me."

"I'm the one with the power here, Kurt. You can't tell me what to do. I won."

"Fine. Don't kiss me. I didn't want to kiss you anyway."

Blaine lifted his head up and pressed his lips to Kurt's, soft and warm. "I win," he whispered against Kurt's lips.

Kurt huffed and pushed Blaine back. "Get away from me, you loser."

"No, I'm a winner."

"God, if this is what our last month together is going to be like—" Kurt paused at Blaine's expression, noting the way it had fallen at the mention of Kurt's imminent departure. He smiled softly and kissed Blaine's nose. "I'll cherish every second of it."

"Mmm. Good save," Blaine said, kissing him again.


	11. To Get By

_Prompt: __"Can you write where Blaine's mom is a stripper because they're poor and Blaine never tells anyone because he doesn't like people judging his mom. But one day at school a boy comes to school with photos of her and Blaine flips."_

… … …

Blaine was only two years old when his father left him, his brother, and his mother alone. He didn't remember it, of course. He was too young. He knew it had happened, though, because his mom always curse his dad and Cooper always cried about it. Cooper was twelve when their dad left, so he had the chance to make a real relationship with him before he left.

Blaine didn't know which was worse: not knowing his father at all, or knowing him and losing him.

Unfortunately, Blaine's dad was the key to their financial stability. When he left, he took their security with him. As a child, Blaine remembered playing with his brother on the floor of their shared, tiny room in their small, one bedroom trailer. Their mother gave Blaine and Cooper the bedroom and she slept on the couch.

His mom had done everything in her power to give them as much as she could. She was only one woman, though, and without a college degree and only her GED to help her, she couldn't get a good job. Not in this economy. And almost every job she found hired her soon after because she was "too preoccupied." Meaning she spent more time worrying about her children than her job.

Once Cooper got old enough, he was able to get a minimum wage job at a pizza place. That helped for a while, and Blaine reflected fondly on that time in his childhood when they had a little extra money. They ate well, then, sometimes even affording to get real beef for taco night, as opposed to their usual diet of beans and rice, Ramen noodles, and quesadillas.

When Cooper graduated high school, though, he left for college. He had to. He saw how their mother struggled without a college degree and he couldn't let himself share those same struggles. He sent them a little money every month, but it wasn't as good as it was when he lived with them and worked at the pizza place.

By the time Blaine made it to high school, things had only gotten worse. He got picked on a lot at school for wearing hand-me-down clothes that were always the wrong sizes, or his shoes having holes in them. Kids spat at his feet and called him "trailer trash" on almost a daily basis.

Then he came out, and things got even worse. The bullies at school told him it was his fault that his life was so bad. That God hated who he was, and that's why he had a shitty situation.

Sometimes, when Blaine went to bed at night, he heard his mom sobbing on the sofa. Those were the only nights when Blaine didn't cry himself to sleep. Someone in the household needed to be strong.

And then, suddenly, money got better. Even better than when Cooper lived with them. His mom told him that she got a new job, and that it was a well-paying one, and that everything would be good from now on. For a while, Blaine deluded himself into thinking it was just a nice job that she lucked into, like a receptionist for a temp agency or something. But when his mother only worked at night, and often returned home in high heels, covered in glitter and way too much eye makeup, and reeking of alcohol, Blaine what she was doing.

But he turned a blind eye. Because his mother was doing what she thought was best for their family, and he couldn't fault her for that. She was doing what she needed to get by.

He kept it a secret for as long as he could. It wasn't difficult, seeing as he didn't really have any friends.

Until one day when it wasn't a secret anymore.

"Hey, trailer trash!" someone called after him in the hall.

Blaine kept his head down and continued walking hugging his books to his chest.

"Yo, faggot, I'm talking to you!"

He did his best to ignore the bully, turning the corner to class, but the next sentence got his attention.

"Alright, fine. I just thought you'd be interested to see the pics I got of your mom last night."

Blaine came to a halt, spinning around on his heel and facing the guy. It was one of the upperclassman that liked to pick on Blaine a lot.

"Yeah, I thought that might catch your attention." The guy caught up to him, holding up a picture of Blaine's mom—topless, in a thong, with one leg in the air and sliding down a pole, five-inch heels on her feet.

Blaine snatched at it, but the guy pulled it away before he could grab it. "Give it to me."

"Not a chance in hell. I'm headed to the teachers' lounge to make copies right now. I'm gonna post them all over school and show everybody just how _pathetic _your family is."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Blaine spat. "My mom is a good person."

"Oh yeah? Is this what good people do? Take off all their clothes and practically fuck a pole for a few hundred bucks?"

"That's not what she's doing," Blaine said, voice low.

He had never before experienced anger like this. It was a deep, simmering heat that was making him shaky and anxious. He couldn't breathe, could barely think.

The guy stepped closer, right into Blaine's face, and said, "Your mom is a _whore. _And in ten minutes, the whole school is going to know it."

Before Blaine even knew what he was doing, he let his fist fly, clocking the guy right on his jawline. The guy stumbled back, cradling his jaw, working it from side to side and wincing. "You're gonna fucking regret that, you low-life son of a bitch."

He lunged at Blaine, who artfully stepped to the side and avoided the attack. Blaine had never been more grateful for the times when he was younger and Cooper had dragged him out front of their trailer, teaching him how to fight. Cooper always told him the skill would come in handy and he was right.

The guy made to attack Blaine from behind, but Blaine felt him coming and stepped to the side, turned around, and swung his leg behind the guy's knees, knocking him to the ground on his ass. Blaine took the opportunity to climb on top of him, straddling his chest and alternating fists, punching the hell out of the guy's face.

Blaine probably would've punched the guy to a bloody pulp had a teacher not come around the corner, calling out for him to stop and dragging him off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?"

The guy who'd been taunting him was still on the floor, coughing up blood, spitting a tooth out to the side and groaning.

"He started it," Blaine panted, coming back to reality.

His hands started to radiate pain, burning all of the nerve endings in his hand and wrists.

"I don't care who started it," the teacher snapped. "You're going to the principal. Now. Go."

"What about this guy?" Blaine said, gesturing to him.

"I'm taking him to the nurse. Get your ass to the principal's office."

Blaine paused, leaning down to pick up the picture of his mom that had fluttered to the ground in their confrontation. The teacher watched him, not saying anything, and Blaine showed himself to the principal's office.

He didn't care if he got suspended. He didn't care if he got expelled. It was worth it. After everything his mother did for him, it was worth the punishment to protect her.


	12. Nightmares

_Prompt: "Can you write a fic about Blaine dealing with constant nightmares and trying to hide it from Kurt? And Kurt finds out when Blaine finally passes out from staying up two/three days straight?"_

… … …

Blaine had never been a good sleeper. As far back as he could remember, his dreams were never dreams. Only nightmares.

When he was a kid, a lot of them were very fantastical and unrealistic, filled with monsters of his mind's creation. As he got older, they grew and morphed. They turned into dreams about Blaine getting stuck in a pile of mud and not being able to move, then about Blaine's house being caught on fire with his parents and brother inside as he was tied to a tree in the yard across the street, forced to listen to their screams and watch them burn.

He'd hoped that the introduction of Kurt to his life would make the nightmares go away, or at least subside. Instead, they got worse. Not because Kurt was bad—no, on the contrary, Kurt was the only good thing in his life—but because the nightmares turned into having to watch Kurt get tortured, maimed, murdered in the most brutal ways.

And almost always, it was his fault.

Blaine had hid his nightmares well over the years. He'd avoided a sleepover with Kurt for much longer than he'd thought he'd be able to. It wasn't until they started having sex that they had a real sleepover where they shared the same bed. Blaine hadn't meant to fall asleep, but in his sleepy, post-orgasm haze, he dozed off. He woke with a start, panting and sweating as always. But when he looked over to Kurt to reassure him that everything was fine, he found that Kurt was still sleeping soundly beside him.

The fact that Kurt slept like the dead worked very well in Blaine's favour. After that, he was much more comfortable with sleepovers.

It wasn't until they lived together in the loft that Kurt actually found out about Blaine's nightmares at all.

And really, it was Blaine's own mistake. He'd been so worried about waking up others in the loft, and his nightmares had gotten so much worse due to the stress of the move, that Blaine just didn't sleep at all. He got into bed with Kurt at night, cuddled up with him, waited until Kurt drifted off, and then got up and read in the moonlight by the window in the living room.

He was fine for the first few days. Blaine was used to not getting much sleep, anyway. But Cassie July ran them hard in dance classes, and his body wasn't used to so much physical exertion with no rest.

One Saturday afternoon, Blaine was yawning almost every thirty seconds as he sat on the couch watching TV with Kurt. He kept nodding off every few minutes or so, then snapping back awake just before he drifted off. He was exhausted; completely worn out.

"Baby, why don't you go take a nap? You look tired," Kurt said, nudging him.

Blaine sat up, shaking his head. "No, no, I'm okay right here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. We have to start studying for that music theory class soon anyway, right?"

"We do. But how about we go get that good coffee from the place a few blocks away? It'll help keep you going while we study and then we can both nap later."

"Alright. That sounds like a plan."

God, Blaine could barely keep his eyes open, how was he supposed to walk all the way to their favourite coffee place without falling over completely?

He didn't.

It was when they were standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change that it happened. One minute Blaine was standing up, holding Kurt's hand, watching the traffic go by. The next, he was blacked out on the ground.

When he came to, he saw Kurt's worried face only about a foot from his. "Blaine? Oh my god, are you okay?"

Blaine frowned, looking around. People had crowded around them.

"What happened?"

"You passed out, honey. Don't worry, I already called 911."

"You called 911? Kurt, that's for emergencies only."

"This is an emergency. You passed out on the street."

Blaine shook his head and then winced at the pain. He tried to sit up, but Kurt gently nudged him back down.

"Don't try to get up. I don't know how hard you hit your head. You could have a concussion."

"You're overreacting. I'm fine."

"We'll wait and see when the ambulance gets here."

Blaine was mortified when an ambulance showed up, blaring its sirens and flashing its lights. Paramedics fussed over him, checking his vitals and making him follow a pen back and forth. They flashed a light in his eyes and then helped him onto a stretcher, loading him into the back of the ambulance. Kurt hopped in with them, holding Blaine's hand the entire way to the hospital.

Santana, Rachel, and Sam were all waiting in the lobby when they arrived. Blaine went through and got evaluated by a doctor before being admitted for overnight watch.

With Kurt in the room, the doctor explained the situation.

"You show symptoms of a mild concussion, but it's not much to worry about. You passed out from exhaustion due to lack of sleep, so we're going to keep you overnight and give you a sedative to help your body get the rest it needs. Is there any reason you haven't been sleeping well lately?"

Kurt frowned, looking to Blaine. "You sleep just fine. You don't wake me up at all."

Blaine gave Kurt a sympathetic smile. "Babe, you sleep like the dead. A bomb going off just outside the loft wouldn't wake you up." Then he turned to the doctor, opening his mouth and finally revealing his secret to Kurt. "I have terrible nightmares. I've had them my whole life, but they've only gotten worse as I've gotten older. I can't sleep, and the times I do manage to fall asleep, I wake up less than an hour later sweaty and panicked."

The doctor nodded, pursing her lips. "And when's the last time you got a full night's rest?"

"A full night's rest for me is about two hours."

"Okay, so let's say six hours then. When's the last time you got six hours of sleep?"

Blaine paused, thinking. "I honestly can't remember."

The doctor nodded again and pulled out a prescription pad from her jacket. "I'm going to write you a prescription. This is for a strong sleeping aid. The patients I've had who've had trouble sleeping the way you do say it works wonders. They don't have any dreams at all. Is that okay?"

"That sounds wonderful," Blaine sighed.

"You'll have to take it at least eight hours before you're supposed to be awake the next morning or you'll sleep right through your alarm."

"Got it." Blaine took the piece of paper that she held out to him and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. A nurse should be in shortly to give you the sedative. You'll be sleep until tomorrow morning to help your body recuperate."

"Okay."

With that, the doctor left.

Kurt turned in his chair and gave Blaine a sad look. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I don't know. I felt embarrassed. I've been struggling with it my whole life. It just seemed like something I was meant to handle alone."

"But you're not alone," Kurt said, scooting his chair forward and taking Blaine's hand in his. "You have me now, remember? If I had known things were this bad for you, I would have urged you to a doctor a long time ago."

Blaine shrugged. "I tried a lot of over-the-counter medicines as a kid and none of them worked. I just figured I was stuck with this."

"You had me worried sick, you know. You just passed out on the street and I didn't know why. This could have been really bad if you'd passed out in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Kurt gave him a weak smile and kissed the back of Blaine's hand. "It's okay. You're okay now. We'll figure it out. You tell me if this medicine doesn't work, though, alright? We'll come back and find a different one for you. You need to get some sleep, Blaine. You'll die without it. Seriously."

"Yes, dear," Blaine said, smiling.

The nurse came in then to give Blaine the sedative. He started feeling the effects immediately, getting woozy and fuzzy.

"You get some sleep, babe," Kurt said. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Mmm. Right there. That's good. Love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, Blaine."

And then, for the first time in his life, Blaine drifted off to sleep and didn't have a single nightmare.


	13. Your Face

It started simply enough, like it always did. Blaine had a knack for finding the best apps to download and usually got everyone around him to download them too. The first one that got Kurt was Plague Inc., an app where you had to try to destroy the world with a super disease you got to name. The game was all about strategy, and Kurt loved the challenge.

He sat on the couch with his tongue sticking out, phone sideways in his hand, thumbs tapping the screen.

Blaine came over and joined him on the couch, laughing. "Still can't get past the Fungus type?"

"No! It's all Greenland's fault. They just _have _to protect their country from you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, I named the disease after you," Kurt said distractedly, eyes completely focused on his phone.

Blaine slipped an arm around Kurt's shoulders and pulled him in, kissing his temple. "How flattering."

It wasn't just Kurt, though. The whole loft was obsessed with the game. Late at night after everyone had gone to bed and Kurt and Blaine were laying together under the covers, they often heard Santana cursing in Spanish at Madagascar or Iceland. And, of course, Greenland. Greenland gave _everyone _trouble.

The next app that Blaine introduced Kurt to was even more addicting than Plague Inc. It was called Egg Baby. The goal was to take care of up to six eggs of varying types—ghost, dragon, flower, heart—and nurture them until they hatched into a creature you'd keep in your backyard. They could have different personality types based on books you read to it or clothes you put it in. It was a cute game, one Kurt didn't anticipate getting so attached to, but it was entertaining and not as time consuming as Plague Inc.

When they climbed into bed at night Blaine got comfortable under the covers while Kurt sat up, focused on taking care of his eggs before he went to sleep.

"Kuuuurt," Blaine said, laughing. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking care of my eggs. If I don't make sure they're all happy before I go to bed they'll die overnight."

"I know, babe, I'm the one who introduced you to the game, remember?"

"I know, I know."

Kurt swiped his index finger back and forth on one of his eggs, tickling it to make it happy.

"Are you really going to make me go to sleep with no cuddles?" Blaine asked, poking Kurt's arm.

"I'll cuddle you in a minute, whiny pants. I just need to take care of Leonardo."

"Dicaprio or da Vinci?"

"Da Vinci, of course."

"Of course."

Kurt finished by giving Leonardo a bath and putting him to sleep before setting his phone on the bedside table and scooting down the bed to lie with Blaine. He cuddled up to Blaine's side, throwing an arm over Blaine's waist and letting his head rest on Blaine's chest just beneath his collarbone. Blaine brought up his hand to draw it up and down Kurt's back, fingertips sweeping across Kurt's skin and giving him chills.

Kurt fell asleep easily in Blaine's arms, but the second he woke up the next morning, he reached for his phone on the table and opened up Egg Baby again.

Blaine stirred next to him, groaning as he looked over. "Again? Already?"

"If I don't properly care for them they'll die, Blaine! It's happened once before. The shell cracked open and a sunny-side-up egg lay in the middle, dead. I can't do that to my babies again. They need my love and care."

"So do I," Blaine whined, voice still low and thick with sleep.

Kurt rolled his eyes but set his phone down and turned back to face Blaine again, smiling fondly and kissing Blaine's nose. "I love you, despite your tendency of being overdramatic."

"I take that offensively."

"I said I love you!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Hey, you know what we should do? Coco Chanel hatches today. You and I could make an egg baby together!"

Blaine perked up, smiling. "Yeah? You wanna make an egg baby together?"

"Of course. We'll do it this afternoon after Coco Chanel hatches. Sound like a plan?"

"Definitely."

Later that day, Kurt and Blaine sat on the couch together with Kurt's phone shared between them. Kurt sat sideways on the couch against one of the armrests, his legs strewn across Blaine's lap. Blaine gave him a foot massage while he leaned over and looked at Kurt's phone screen with him.

"Okay, which egg type should we get?" Kurt asked.

"How about the flower one?"

"A good choice, but I'm not sure. What about the space egg? It's pretty and sleek."

"And it looks super cool," Blaine added, nodding. "Definitely go with the space egg."

"Okay, now what should we name it?"

"Hmmm. Do we want it to be a boy or a girl?"

"A boy, of course. Because we like boys," Kurt said.

Blaine laughed, leaning in for a kiss. "That we do."

The door to the loft slid open, revealing Rachel and Sam coming home. Sam came over and sat at the opposite end of the couch, turning on the TV. "What are you guys up to?"

"Making a baby," Kurt said, winking.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed and he paused before saying, "I might be wrong, but I remember Holly Holiday coming in and teaching all of us how that works, and I don't think it happened when both parties were fully clothed."

"Or both men," Rachel pointed out, putting groceries away.

"It's an app," Blaine explained.

Rachel groaned, opening the refrigerator. "Not another one. You and your apps, Blaine."

"Hey, this one is fun!" Kurt protested.

"You think everything Blaine suggests is fun because you're in love with him," Rachel said.

Kurt turned his eyes to meet Blaine's and shrugged. "She's not wrong."

"Okay, names!" Blaine said, laughing and pointing at the screen. "Our poor egg baby is without identity."

"Okay, okay. Ummm… Picasso?"

"What is it with you and artists?"

"I appreciate aesthetic beauty. Can you blame me? Look who I'm engaged to," Kurt said, nudging Blaine with his leg and smiling.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "I know, I'm very physically blessed." Blaine paused, smirking, and then grabbed the phone from Kurt's hand and tapped on it with his thumbs. Then he looked up at Kurt, still smirking, and said, "You know what else is beautiful?"

"What?" Kurt asked, skeptical.

"Your face."

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "Such a flatterer."

Blaine turned the phone screen to Kurt, showing that he'd named their egg Your Face. Kurt could only laugh, taking the phone back.

"You're such a dork," Kurt said.

"Oh, please! That was classic!"

"Classically dorky."

"You love me and you know it."

"I really do. Okay, what personality should Your Face have?"

"If I'm such a dork, we ought to go with nerdy. Seems fitting, doesn't it?"

Kurt nodded, smiling. "Alright, yeah. So, he needs glasses, obviously."

"Obviously."

And together, they made an egg baby named Your Face. He wore a hoodie and had glasses and freckles. And he was theirs. It was just a game, a silly app on Kurt's phone, but it was a fun thing for them to do together.

It took five days for Your Face to hatch. Of course, during those five days, Kurt and Blaine took turns taking care of it. In bed at night, instead of complaining that Kurt was playing the game, Blaine would ask Kurt to hand him the phone so he could take care of their egg. It was totally ridiculous but totally them.

When it finally hatched, Kurt went back to playing the game alone. Until, that is, Blaine found a new app for them. After all, there's an app for everything.


	14. Can't Weigh Me Down

_Blaine develops bulimia and is caught by Santana._

… … …

Blaine Anderson always prided himself on the way criticism rolled off his back. Well, no, constructive criticism he could take. It was the heartless insults he'd endured for his one year at Westerville High that he was now immune to. He spent his entire ninth grade year getting slurs hissed or yelled at him, having notes placed in his locker or on his desk with crude words or images, being tripped in the hallway or the cafeteria.

Now, though, things were supposed to be different. This was college in the real world, and people were supposed to be more mature and evolved. The petty drama of high school was supposed to be in the past.

Except it wasn't.

It was only at the end of the first month of the school year that someone rammed into his shoulder in the hall then stopped and scoffed at him. "Watch where you're going, grandpa."

And, okay, maybe Kurt had left early that morning leaving Blaine to pick his own outfit and he'd reverted back to his suspenders and bowties, but there was no reason to be mean about it. Blaine liked the way he dressed.

Then, as a couple more months wore on, Blaine noticed a difference in the way his body was reflected in the mirror. He'd always had a soft stomach—which Kurt loved to nuzzle into—but now it was just pudgy. His hips had gotten a little wider and his thighs a little bigger. Even his arms had a little more flab to them. It wasn't a big change, not really, but it was enough to make Blaine stop twice about sharing a third slice of cheesecake with Kurt at dinner that night.

But really, it was Cassandra July that sent him over the edge.

Rachel had warned him, of course. But towards the beginning of the semester, Cassandra had focused her insulting energy on other students, so Blaine thought he was safe.

Except he wasn't.

"Okay, stop. Cut the music," Cassandra said, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. She tapped her cane on the hardwood floor, making slow steps around the room until she was face to face with Blaine. "You."

Blaine gulped, trying his best to maintain eye contact with her to show he wasn't intimidated. "Yes?"

"What's your deal, Tubbers?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you were sloppy to begin with, but in a freshmen class you were among the better students. Now look at you. You've really let yourself go, haven't you?"

Blaine frowned. "I'm not sloppy."

"Oh, no no," Cassandra said, shaking her head and smiling. "Don't argue with me. I'm right." She started walking in a slow circle around him, making Blaine more and more nervous. "You've put on some weight. Guess that freshman fifteen isn't a myth after all." She stopped in front of his face again and leaned in close. "Maybe if you tried harder in my class, you'd get the exercise you so desperately need."

"I'm doing my best," Blaine argued.

Cassandra tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "Really? Pity."

Then she stepped away and walked towards the piano, saying, "From the top! And pick up the tempo so Chubby Cheeks over there can burn a few calories."

And _that _was what sent Blaine over the edge.

It was little things at first. He'd order appetizers instead of entrees as a meal at restaurants, he'd skip dessert and deny Kurt's cookies (no matter how delicious they smelled), he'd work hours outside of class on dance routines in hopes of not only perfecting them but burning calories, as Miss July had suggested.

None of it seemed to be working. He'd lost a couple pounds, sure, but it was nothing to celebrate. He still looked softer than usual. It had become a ritual now before he stepped into the shower to examine every inch of his body in the mirror, figuring out what were the problem areas and what he most needed to focus on.

His whole body just felt like one big problem area.

It was becoming a problem when it interfered with his sex life with Kurt. Often times, Kurt would initiate something, and Blaine couldn't follow through because he was ashamed and didn't want Kurt to see his body.

In bed one night, as Blaine crawled underneath the covers to join Kurt, Kurt initiated a kiss that was a little messy and a lot dirty. Kurt's intentions were clear, and Blaine broke away almost immediately, pulling back.

Kurt frowned. "What's wrong with you lately? You never want to have sex anymore."

"I'm just exhausted," Blaine said, shrugging. "You know how Miss July is. She's been working me to the bone."

"Oh," Kurt said, smiling sympathetically. "I know how that is." He lifted a and to touch his index finger to Blaine's lips, trailing the finger down his neck and chest until it hooked into his waistband. "What if I do all the work, then?"

Blaine laughed nervously, pushing Kurt's hand away. "I don't know. I'm just not really in the mood tonight, Kurt. I'm sorry."

Kurt only sighed and rolled over, away from Blaine, muttering, "You're never in the mood anymore."

And that was when Blaine knew he needed to lose weight. And fast. So, he googled "how to lose weight fast," but all of the plans seemed to involve some rabbit food diet or juice cleanse or bottle of pills you had to pay hundreds of dollars for and weren't even approved by the FDA.

The next day, Blaine slipped out of his music theory class to go down the hall and to the restroom. As he passed by the girls' restroom, he heard retching. He paused just outside the door, listening, thinking maybe someone was sick in there and he should see if she needed help. A minute later he heard the toilet flush, the faucet run, and then the girl was emerging, looking not sick at all.

But very thin.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. "Mind your own business, Pudge."

Blaine frowned. "I was just trying to help."

"I didn't ask for it. Although, maybe you could use some help. Have you seen a mirror lately? Maybe you should be taking a page from my book."

She stalked off down the hall, presumably to go back to her class. Blaine sighed and headed into the boys' room. He paused at the sinks, staring at his reflection.

_Maybe she's right,_ he thought.

It wasn't until Thanksgiving that he actually did it, though. He tried to stay healthy for as long as he could, but results just weren't happening. And especially after they all stayed in New York for the holiday and Kurt cooked a huge, amazing meal that Blaine couldn't resist, he knew he needed a way to keep up appearances and still lose weight.

So, after all the Thanksgiving leftovers had been put away that night and all the loft roommates had gone to bed and succumbed to their food comas, Blaine slipped into the bathroom, stuck his fingers down his throat, and threw up as much as he could.

He felt horrible, afterwards. But accomplished. Like he'd finally figured out the key to something very important.

The purging just became part of his routine after that. He'd eat a meal, he'd go off to the bathroom, he'd throw it all back up. Food wasn't allowed to stay in and seep into his body. He had to get rid of it before it had the chance to cling to the large lumps of fat already on him.

And it seemed to work, for a while. He was finally happy. He'd lost a good portion of the weight he'd gained and he started having sex with Kurt again. He was finally proud of his body again.

But then he couldn't stop.

He was addicted to the purging. The way it felt to rid his body of the toxins in his food. The power he felt and controlling his body. Cassandra July complimented him on his weight loss in class and even told him if he kept it up, he may have a career after all. Blaine was finally thriving at NYADA like he had always hoped he would, and like Kurt had always assured him he would.

Then Santana ruined everything.

After finals week, the whole gang had gone out to eat to celebrate the end of the semester. Caught up in the hype and excitement, Blaine ordered more food than usual and even ate some of Kurt's. When they had all finished eating and were waiting for the check, Blaine felt the food in his stomach, heavy as lead, and knew he had to get rid of it. So he excused himself to the bathroom. There were two guys standing at the urinals, but Blaine bypassed them and headed straight for the stall. He waited until he heard the door swing to signify them leaving before sticking his fingers down his throat.

And then the door to the stall swung open and there stood Santana, arms crossed and eyes sad. "Blaine, back away from the toilet."

Blaine could only sit on the floor in shock, unmoving, staring up at her. "I think I ate some bad food, it just isn't sitting well, I thought I'd—"

"Yeah, I know what you were doing. You think I haven't noticed you sneaking off to the bathroom after _every _meal?"

"I wasn't—"

"You were." She knelt down in front of him, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. "But it's okay. Because you and I are going to sit down with Kurt and tell him about it. And we're going to help you."

Blaine's eyes widened. "No, wait, you can't tell Kurt."

"We have to, Blaine. What you're doing—it's not healthy."

"I'm _fine._"

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be sitting on the floor of a public bathroom. Do you know how _disgusting _this floor is?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and stood up, shoving past her. "It was bad food, like I said."

"Yeah? Because I ordered the same thing and I feel just fine," Santana countered.

"Maybe you have a stronger stomach than I do."

"Or maybe I don't throw up my food after every meal anymore because I got help like I'm trying to get you to do."

Blaine paused with his hand on the door handle, looking back at her over his shoulder. "What?"

"Blaine, how did you think I was onto your little scheme?" She took steps toward him, standing with him by the door. "It's because I've been there. And Brittany was the one picking me up off the bathroom floor and pushing me to get help. Now, with Kurt, I'm going to do the same for you."

The door pushed open then, causing them both to stumble back. Kurt appeared, frowning. "Santana, what are you doing in the men's bathroom?"

"Why do you need to know?" she responded.

Kurt just shook his head and looked to Blaine. "Are you okay? You were in here for a while and I got worried."

Blaine did his best to smile even though it felt like his entire world had just come crashing down. "I'm fine. I just got thrown off by Santana being in here. Sorry."

"It's okay. We've all paid, so we can go now."

"Kurt, you didn't have to pay for me."

"I didn't. Rachel did. She decided to pay for everyone's meals. Being a star has its perks. Now come on, let's go home."

"Okay," Blaine said, following Kurt out of the bathroom. He turned to Santana in the doorway. "You coming?"

Santana nodded, walking out with him. She leaned close to him and said, "Don't think this is over. We're sitting Kurt down when we get home and you're telling him everything."

"You can't make me tell him," Blaine whispered to her.

"If you don't tell him I will."

Blaine sighed, rubbing his temples. As they caught up to Kurt, he slipped on a mask and smiled, taking the hand Kurt held out to him.

The walk home was daunting, mostly because he knew what was about to happen. He'd tell Kurt everything, and Kurt would cry and try to reassure him that he was beautiful no matter what weight, and Blaine would try to comfort Kurt and tell him it'd be okay, and Kurt would get mad at him for keeping something like this, and it would be a huge deal. He'd never be allowed to eat alone again. He'd be held hostage after every meal for at least an hour until the food settled, and probably even longer just in case.

And that's exactly what happened.

Santana cornered Kurt when they all returned to the loft and said they needed to discuss something serious alone, just the three of them. So they went out on the fire escape, Blaine sitting on the metal stairs and Kurt and Santana sitting on the platform just below him. He told Kurt everything, and by the time he was finished, Kurt was crying.

"I just don't understand. Why would you think you had to resort to something like this?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged and answered in a small voice, feeling on the verge of tears himself. "I don't know."

"Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you tell me you were struggling? Oh my god, is this—is this why you wouldn't have sex with me?"

"I was ashamed of my body," Blaine said, nodding. "I look a lot better now, but I still am."

"Oh, honey, you have nothing to be ashamed of," Kurt insisted, getting up to sit next to Blaine on the steps, holding his hands. "Your body is beautiful. Why do you think I want to have sex with you all the time?" Kurt asked, laughing lightly and trying for a joke.

It fell kind of flat, but Blaine smiled, appreciating the attempt all the same.

"He's going to keep going with this if we don't help him," Santana spoke up, looking to Kurt. Then she looked at Blaine. "You understand why we can't let you go to the bathroom after you eat now, right?"

Blaine sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I know."

"We're nipping this thing in the bud. Before it gets any worse," Santana said.

"Thank you, Santana," Kurt said, nodding at her. "Really. Thank you."

Santana gave a small smile. "Just looking out for my family."

With that, she stood up and climbed back inside the loft, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on Blaine's forehead. "I love you so much. You know that, right?"

"I do, I know. I love you too."

"I love you at any weight, okay? Screw Cassie July. She's a belligerent, alcoholic bitch that would've been fired already if she didn't have tenure. And she picks on the students she sees the most potential in the worst, so if she's really that hard on you, it's because she knows you're good. Try to take it as a backwards compliment from Lindsey Lohan."

Blaine laughed, wiping at his wet eyes. "Yeah, alright."

Kurt slipped his hands around Blaine's waist, letting them move slowly around Blaine's middle. "You don't ever need to feel insecure about your body. You're amazing. And if you do, I want you to tell me, okay? Making yourself throw up—this is really serious, Blaine."

"I know," Blaine said solemnly, nodding. "But once I started, I just…didn't know how to stop."

"Well, Santana and I will help with that. And if you're really worried about your weight, there are healthier ways to get in shape. I can cook more healthy meals for us, and we can get a gym membership and work out together."

"As if you need to work out anymore," Blaine said, running his hand up Kurt's arm and squeezing his bicep. "If you get any buffer you'll be Steve Rogers."

"I'll be your Captain America if you'll be my Tony Stark," Kurt whispered, leaning in to kiss Blaine's lips softly.

"Who knew my fiancé was such a comic book nerd?" Blaine said, pulling back.

Kurt shrugged, smiling. "I'm full of surprises."

After a little more kissing on the fire escape, they eventually got too cold in the December air, even with their coats and gloves and scarves, so they went back inside. Santana glanced up at them as they came in, but took in their faces and smiled slightly before returning to her heated debate with Rachel over how early singing in the shower is acceptable.

The food from earlier still felt heavy in Blaine's stomach as he settled on the couch with Kurt to watch _Kitchen Nightmares. _He rubbed his stomach self-consciously before he felt Kurt's hand cover his, lacing their fingers together and bringing their joined hands to Kurt's lap. Blaine looked over at him, meeting his eyes, and silently telling him _thank you. _Kurt got the message, he could tell, and they resumed watching television.

Blaine knew it wasn't going to be easy to completely change his way of thinking. He'd still get the urge to throw up, and he'd still hate his body in the mirror, and he'd still be self-conscious. But he had a good support system, a family of friends who loved him, and he wasn't so scared anymore.

With Kurt and Santana at his sides, he knew he'd be able to beat this.


	15. Pain and Comfort

_Prompt: "Can you write a fic where Blaine gets appendicitis and Burt and Carole take care of him because his parents are out of town and Kurt is in NY (set during season 5 after Finn passes)."_

… … …

It was in the last few weeks of school that Blaine started feeling pain in his lower abdomen. He brushed it off, assuming it was just gas or bad food from the school cafeteria—(it wouldn't be the first time). But as the week wore on, the pain didn't subside. In fact, it got worse. A lot worse. So he talked to his mom about it when she got home from work on his fourth day of feeling the pain.

"Hey, Mom?" he asked, after she'd had a chance to get through the door and set her stuff down.

She seemed stressed, running her hands through her hair. "I don't know when dinner will be ready, Blaine. It was a long day and I don't feel up to cooking tonight so we may just order in."

"Oh, um, that's cool. I wasn't going to ask about dinner, actually."

His mom turned to him, attempting a smile. "Okay, what is it?"

"I have a stomach ache." He paused, wincing at how childish that sounded, then elaborated. "I mean, not a regular one. It's this deeper, really intense pain in my lower abdomen, and I've had it for about a week and it still hasn't gone away."

"Hmm," his mom frowned, stepping towards him. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and said, "You feel a little feverish, but not much. Where does it hurt?"

He gestured to his belly button, and then a little lower, off to his right side. "This general area."

She pursed her lips, nodding. "Honey, you know, it's probably just gas."

"But it hasn't gone away for, like, four days. And it feels different than…that."

"Well, your father and I have to go out of town this weekend to visit your grandma up in Maine, remember? But if it gets worse, I want you to call me, okay? I'll fly right back and we'll go to the hospital."

Blaine sighed. "Okay."

His mom smiled sympathetically and put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure you're fine. People get random pains all the time; it's part of being human. Let's wait it out a couple more days and then see what happens."

"Alright."

"Now, do you want Vietnamese or Italian tonight?"

His parents left the next morning, leaving Blaine alone in his house and still with a very sensitive, sore stomach. He laid in bed watching TV after his parents left, experimentally touching to his abdomen in the places that it hurt. His hand pressed on his lower right side and the pain spiked up, making him sit up. Then, he was suddenly extremely nauseous, and he leapt from the bed and barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up.

This was worse than his mother thought, but Blaine didn't know what to do. His parents had probably just boarded the plane, and he'd have to wait until at least the evening for them to get back, if they decided to fly back at all.

The pain was making him panic. He didn't know what to do, or who to call, and he was desperate for someone to tell him it would be okay and actually know what to do.

And then it hit him. He knew a nurse.

He shakily made it back into his bedroom, each step causing him more pain to his abdomen. He felt like he couldn't walk without shooting pain, so he hunched over and took slow, easy steps to his bed, holding his stomach. He grabbed his phone and pulled up the number he was looking for, then pressed call.

It rang a few times before finally the person he'd been hoping for answered.

_"Hello?" _Carole said.

Blaine sighed in relief. "Carole, it's Blaine. Something is wrong with me, and you're a nurse, and my parents are out of town, and I didn't know who else to call—"

_"Okay, Blaine, calm down. It's going to be okay. Tell me what's wrong?"_

Blaine already felt comforted just at the sound of her concerned, maternal voice. "It's this—this pain. In my stomach. But, like, lower. And I pushed on it and it made me really nauseous and I threw up. And I think I'm running a low-grade fever, and I've had this pain since Tuesday, Carole, and it hasn't gone away, and I don't know what to do."

_"Alright, here's what I want you to do. If you can make it, I want you to go downstairs and wait on the couch for me. I'll come pick you up and take you to the hospital. Can you do that?"_

Blaine heard another voice on her end of the line, Burt's gruff voice saying, _"Who is that?" _and Carole answering _"It's Blaine. I think he has appendicitis, but I can't be sure. We need to take him to the hospital."_

"Appendicitis?" Blaine asked.

Carole's voice immediately filled his ear, talking to him again. _"Yes, Blaine but I can't be sure until we get to the hospital and do an ultrasound. But it's going to be okay, I'll be there soon, you just hang tight, okay?"_

"Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Carole."

_"Of course, honey. I'll be there as quick as I can."_

"Okay."

They hung up, and Blaine stumbled to his doorway with his phone still clutched in his hand, He looked down the stairs and groaned. There was no way he'd be able to walk upright down the stairs without falling. He decided the best way would be to sit down and scoot stair-by-stair, but each time his butt fell to the next step, the pain spiked. Finally, though, he made it to the first floor, unlocking the front door on his way to the couch so Carole could just come in.

When she got there, she knocked, so Blaine called, "It's unlocked!"

Carole opened the door and peaked her head in, looking towards the couch for Blaine. "Hi, honey. Are you ready to go to the hospital?"

Blaine nodded, struggling to sit up from the couch. Carole came and helped him up, then helped him walk over to the door. Burt was waiting in the truck's driver's seat.

Neither of them looked very well. Carole was wearing scrub pants and a sweatshirt, and Burt was wearing a tired look in his eyes. They both looked like they were going through hell, but then, Blaine supposed, they were. Finn had only passed away a few weeks ago. The pain, he was sure, was still fresh for both of them.

He suddenly felt very guilty as he climbed into the truck, taking the middle seat on the bench. He hunched over immediately, holding onto his stomach, and said, "I'm sorry for bothering you guys. I didn't know who else to call."

"Don't apologize, Blaine, it's okay," Carole said, shutting the door. "You made the right call."

As Burt pulled out of the driveway and started heading for the hospital, Blaine said, "I just feel bad. I know you guys are going through a hard time right now—"

Carole placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "We all lost him, Blaine."

Blaine heard in her tone that she didn't want to talk about it anymore, so he kept quiet the entire ride to the hospital.

When they arrived, Carole and Burt helped him out of the truck, walking him slowly to the double doors of the ER. Carole got the attention of one of her fellow nurses and said, "Eighteen-year-old male, presenting signs of appendicitis. He says he's felt pain in his lower abdomen for five days, so we need to get him to see a doctor as soon as possible."

The nurse nodded. "I'll go get Dr. Miller right away."

"Thank you."

Carole led him over to a chair in the waiting area and sat him down. "The doctor will be here as soon as possible, okay?"

"Okay."

Burt sat down beside Blaine and rubbed his back. "It's gonna be okay, kid. Do you want me to call Kurt?"

Blaine paused. How had he not thought to call Kurt yet? He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, could you please call Kurt? But make sure that he knows it's not serious, so he doesn't hop on a plane here. He does that too often. If he misses more school or work he'll fail and get fired."

"Okay," Burt said, after a pause. "I'll tell him."

As Burt stood up to go call Kurt, a doctor came over, her heels clicking on the cool, tile floor. "Hey, Carole. Aren't you still on leave?"

Blaine looked up to see Carole smile tightly. "Yes, I am. I'm actually here about my step-son's boyfriend—I mean, fiancé. He's eighteen years old, running a low-grade fever, told me he was experiencing nausea and vomiting, and that he has sharp pain in his lower abdomen."

"And how long have you been experiencing this pain?"

"Five days," Blaine gritted out, wincing as he tried to stand up.

Dr. Miller gestured behind her at a nurse to bring over a wheelchair. "What's your name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

"Okay, Blaine, we're going to get you in this wheelchair and take you to an examination room. I want to do an ultrasound to check for appendicitis. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Where are your parents, Blaine?"

"In Maine, visiting my grandma," Blaine answered. The wheelchair was rolled in front of him, and Carole helped him stand enough to switch over to the wheelchair. Carole followed Dr. Miller and rolled Blaine down the hall to a room, wheeling him close to the bed and helping to get him onto it, lying him down.

He was still wearing his pajamas, which he would've been embarrassed about it if he wasn't in so much pain. It seemed to work out for him, anyway. Dr. Miller leaned out of the room and signaled for a nurse, saying, "Can you bring me an ultrasound machine?"

The nurse nodded and left.

Dr. Miller came back over to Blaine and said, "I'm just going to lift up your shirt and move your waistband down a little to get to the area I need. I'm going to apply pressure to areas of your stomach, and I want you to tell me when it hurts worse."

Blaine nodded. Dr. Miller applied her hand along his belly button area, which Blaine winced at but assured her it wasn't as bad. When her hands pressed on an area to the right, lower than his belly button, Blaine hissed and rolled away from her slightly, gasping. "There. Right there. That hurts a lot."

"Alright." The nurse returned with the machine, wheeling it to Dr. Miller by Blaine's bed. She squeezed some gel from the cart on his stomach, and when Blaine flinched, she said, "Sorry. It's cold." Then she brought a wand to his lower abdomen and rubbed it around, shaking her head. "Oh, wow. His appendix is about ready to burst. It's a good thing you brought him in when you did, Carole."

"I'm just glad he called me," Carole said, standing on the other side of Blaine's bed and holding his hand.

Blaine looked between them, scared. "Okay, so what does this mean?"

"We're going to have to take you in for surgery right away. If it ruptures, it'll release infectious toxins in your body."

"Wait, surgery?" Blaine had horrible flashbacks to last year, when he was rushed into surgery for his eye. He squeezed Carole's hand tighter. "But, I—"

"It'll be okay, Blaine," Carole said soothingly. "It's a very routine surgery. Even a first year resident surgeon could do it."

"But don't worry, I'll be the one performing the operation," Dr. Miller said. "I've done at least a hundred of them. You're in good hands."

Burt entered the room, then, looking around. "So? What's going on?"

"He needs surgery," Carole said. "It's appendicitis."

"What did you tell Kurt?" Blaine asked.

"I told him you were in the hospital, but not to worry. I told him I'd keep him updated for you. He told me to tell you he loves you."

Blaine smiled a little, nodding.

Dr. Miller headed for the door and flagged down another doctor. "Prep him for surgery and book an OR. He's got appendicitis and his appendix is about two seconds from rupture."

"Yes, Dr. Miller."

Dr. Miller turned back to Blaine and smiled. "Dr. Jameson is going to prep you for surgery, okay? I'll be back as soon as you're ready for surgery."

Blaine nodded again and watched Dr. Miller leave, turning to look at Dr. Jameson who didn't have a particularly happy expression on his face.

Blaine turned to Carole and said, "Will you call my parents and let them know what's happening? They'll want to fly back. They probably haven't even landed yet, but—"

"I'll call until they answer and leave messages. And don't worry, Blaine, Burt and I will be right here when you're all fixed up, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine nodded, laying back in bed and shutting his eyes. The pain was too intense to try and talk anymore.

Carole leaned over the bed and kissed his forehead before leaving.

… … …

When Blaine woke up, everything was groggy. His stomach still felt sore, but it was much more manageable. Now it really did just feel like gas or indigestion. He blinked blearily and struggled to sit up, but fell right back down, groaning.

"Hey, it's okay, just rest," Carole's voice said from beside his bed.

He looked over to his left to see Carole sitting in the chair next to his bedside, closing the magazine in her lap. Behind her on a bench underneath a window looking into the hospital hallway, Burt sat with his chin tucked to his chest, sleeping.

"What time is it?" Blaine asked, rubbing his eyes.

"It's only about eight in the evening."

"Did you get a hold of my parents?"

"Yes, they should be on a flight back here within a couple hours. Your mother said to say she's sorry. She sounded very worried about you."

Blaine nodded. "I told her I was feeling pain before they left, but she said I'd be fine and to just wait it out. She probably feels guilty."

"She couldn't have known. A lot of parents mistake appendicitis for a child overreacting to a stomach ache."

"Yeah." Blaine nodded again, looking down at his IV.

"We called Kurt again, too," Carole said. "We told him you didn't want him flying back here, but he said to hell with what you want and that you need him, so he should be here later tonight too."

Blaine couldn't help but smile at that. "Sounds about right." He rolled his head to look over at Carole, who was also smiling, but it didn't seem to meet her eyes. He reached a hand out to her and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you—"

Carole shook her head. "Nonsense. You're not a burden, Blaine. You're my son-in-law."

"Step-son-in-law," Blaine corrected.

"Same thing. You're still one of my boys," Carole said. Tears had come to her eyes and she put a hand to her chest. "I'd do anything for my boys."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said immediately, feeling bad. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm okay," she said, shaking her head.

"I didn't mean to…I know it's still recent, with—with Finn, and I know how hard this must be for you to—"

Carole shook her head again, a few tears escaping her eyes. "It's okay. Really. It's very hard, every day, but I don't want you to feel guilty for getting sick." She reached a hand to take Blaine's smiling through her tears. "You've given me a reason to feel like a mother again."

And then Blaine started crying too, squeezing Carole's hand and giving her a sympathetic smile.

He didn't know how long he'd be stuck in the hospital, or how long it'd take for him to recover and heal, or what kind of pain he'd be in along the way, or when Kurt or his parents would arrive, but right now he and Carole needed each other, and that was enough.


	16. Sick to My Stomach

_Sequel to Can't Weigh Me Down. Blaine gets sick and Kurt comes home and hears him throwing up and freaks out._

… … …

It had been months since Blaine had made himself throw up, and he was proud of that. He and Kurt even kept track on the calendar in their room. Every day Blaine went without incident, they put a gold star sticker on the day (stolen from Rachel's room). So far, Blaine had 97 days in his favor. Three months, on his way to the 100th day without purging, and then…

Blaine got sick.

And he didn't do it on purpose. He knew some girls got themselves sick with the flu on purpose so they could lose weight—a fact he'd learned in the group therapy Santana and Kurt had all but forced him into—but he didn't do that. It was an honest mistake; sharing a water bottle with one of the guys in his dance class who was just getting over the flu.

The illness started slow, creeping up on him. It was little things, like a runny nose, or more than a few sneezes throughout the day. He just figured it was his allergies acting up getting used to the New York spring air. Then, it was extreme fatigue. He wrote that off as being a result of his new work-out plan with Kurt and his jazz dance class.

On the 99th day that Blaine was free from purging, he found himself on the floor of the loft bathroom, hugging the toilet, and involuntarily throwing up.

No one was home when Blaine got to the toilet, but some indistinguishable time later, he heard the door slide open from somewhere far, far away. His world had become very fuzzy in his time at the toilet, and he knew then that there was no denying he was sick.

His stomach surged again and he leaned forward, chin resting on the toilet seat as his throat seized up and he gagged, throwing up for the umpteenth time that day.

"Blaine?"

It sounded like Kurt's voice, but Blaine couldn't focus on anything except trying to breathe again when his body was done. He sat back again, leaning against the tub.

Blaine wanted to call back to Kurt, but he didn't have the energy. He waved a hand up but the door was closed—and locked—anyway so it wouldn't much matter.

Kurt knocked at the door. "Blaine? Baby, we were so close. Your hundredth day was tomorrow. What happened?"

Blaine sighed, wishing he could answer Kurt and tell him that it wasn't him relapsing, but him being fatally ill. Of course, Kurt didn't know Blaine was sick to begin with, because Blaine tended to do his best to hide his sickness until it was absolutely impossible to do so.

Like right now.

Again, his stomach seized, and he went for the toilet, vomiting nothing but his stomach acid burning up his esophagus.

"Blaine, come on, don't do this. Just let me in, okay? We can talk about whatever's bothering you. Just please stop and let me in."

The door handle wiggled as Kurt tried to open the door before it went still again. "Please unlock the door."

Blaine couldn't unlock the door because he couldn't get up, and he couldn't tell Kurt because he didn't have the energy to speak, and he couldn't stop throwing up because his body hate him.

The whole thing was like a nightmare. Literally. He had had this nightmare before. He was chained to the toilet, his body convulsing and forcing him to throw up again and again while Kurt stood outside the door trying to help. Sometimes it was Santana, too, but he thought she was working at the diner right now.

"Blaine, come on, this isn't funny anymore."

_When was this ever funny? _Blaine thought to himself.

And then the edges of the world got fuzzy, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he blacked out.

… … …

Kurt was starting to panic. Blaine had been in there for far too long, and he wasn't responding, and something was wrong.

Horrible thoughts went through Kurt's head of his fiancé, upset or hurt about something, taking it out on himself in the worst way. Kurt had read stories about girls and boys who started with an eating disorder and spiraled out of control into self-harm and eventually, suicide.

The thought was enough to bring tears to Kurt's eyes.

"Blaine, seriously, if you don't respond, I'm going to break down this door," he said.

There was no answer.

He took a deep breath, readying himself, and rammed his shoulder into the bathroom door just as the door to their loft slid open. His attempt to break down the door proved successful only in making his shoulder radiate pain and probably bruise. Still, if Blaine was in there, he had to try again.

The second time hurt even worse and now his tears were from pain rather than fear.

"Hummel, what are you doing?" Santana asked, coming up behind him.

"I came home to hear Blaine throwing up in there."

Santana sighed. "Seriously? He's been doing so well."

"I know. But now he won't answer me, and I'm afraid of what might've happened, and I just need to get in there."

"Well, don't do it by breaking the door. You're gonna make us all lose our safety deposits—"

"You never paid one. You're not even on the lease."

"Why wouldn't you just pick the lock?" Santana said, ignoring him and pulling little metal rods out of her hair.

Why Santana always carried a lock pick in her hair was beyond Kurt, but in that instance, he was grateful for it.

"Hurry up!" he urged, bouncing behind her as she picked the lock.

"I'm trying, Kurt, give me a minute."

"He could be hurt! He could be bleeding or passed out from an overdose or—"

"Done," Santana announced, opening the door and stepping back.

Kurt immediately rushed in there to see Blaine passed out on the floor. He fell to the ground beside him and scooped him into his arms, patting the side of his face. "Blaine? Blaine, wake up. Did you take any pills?"

Blaine groaned. "No, I didn't know…we had…medicine."

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"'m sick."

"I know, I heard you throwing up. You were so close, baby, why did you—"

"No, no. 'm sick. Got the flu."

Kurt sighed in relief and turned to Santana, who gave him a nod and walked away. Kurt looked back to Blaine and brushed his sweaty curls off his forehead, clicking his tongue as he felt how hot Blaine's skin was. "Blaine, why didn't you tell me you were so sick?"

"Didn't want you to worry. Wasn't that bad. Til now."

Blaine's labored breathing and pauses between words had Kurt worried, but he knew if he got Blaine to the bed and let him rest, he'd be okay. Blaine just needed lots of water, emergen-c and flu medicine, and rest. So Kurt hooked one arm under Blaine's back and the other under Blaine's knees and moved to sit up, then shakily stand. Blaine was heavy, but Kurt had been working out and he could carry the weight.

Kurt carried him back to bed and laid him down, then got a washcloth and ran it under cool water, wringing it out and laying it on Blaine's forehead.

Blaine hummed. "That's nice."

"Yeah? Does that feel good?"

"Mmm," Blaine nodded.

"Good. I'm going to go fill you up a glass of water and leave it on your bedside, and then I'm going to go to the store and get you medicine. Okay? You just sleep."

"Sleep. Mmkay."

Kurt blew out a deep breath before heading into the living room where Santana was on the couch, reading a magazine. She looked up when he came into the room and asked, "How is he?"

"I don't know. He's really sick, Santana. I'm worried."

"The flu's going around. It's not a big deal. He probably shared drinks with someone or someone sneezed on him in class. He'll be fine in a couple days."

"What if this is worse?" Kurt asked, a dozen terrifying possibilities running through his mind. "What if he's so sick because he'd been making himself sick on purpose and now his body needs to throw up to feel healthy? What if this never stops?"

"Kurt, he hasn't thrown up in, what, three months?"

"Ninety-nine days," Kurt said quietly.

"Yeah. Exactly. He's fine, I promise. This is just the flu, nothing more."

Kurt sat on the arm of the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. "What if this makes him relapse? What if throwing up again makes him realize how much he wants to do it again?"

"Did you see him in there? He looked close to death. He's miserable. This is not something he wants to experience again."

"But what if—"

"Kurt, enough with the what-ifs!" Santana rose from the couch and stood directly in front of Kurt, hands on his shoulders. "He's going to be fine. Blaine is…he's one of the strongest people I know. He's been recovering from his eating disorder way better than I did. I was relapsing every other week for months. He hasn't relapsed once. He's going to be okay. You, on the other hand, are freaking out way too much, so I'm ordering you to sit on this couch and watch Logo or Bravo or whatever gay channel you choose while I go to the store and get him medicine."

"But—"

"No buts," Santana said, shoving Kurt sideways to fall onto the couch.

Kurt huffed and re-situated on the couch, sitting up and pulling a blanket over his legs. Santana grabbed her purse and keys from by the door and was gone without a word.

He flipped through the channels not really seeing what was on. All he could think about was Blaine, and how horribly ill he was, and how terrible he must feel. There was no concentrating on television, not when Blaine was so sick. So, Kurt switched off the TV and went back into their bedroom, staring at Blaine.

Blaine was curled up in a fetal position now, frowning even in his sleep.

Kurt crossed the room and toed off his shoes, peeling off a few layers before lying down behind Blaine in his undershirt and boxer briefs. He wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist and pulled him close, kissing the back of his neck. It didn't matter if Kurt got sick, not really. He could drink some preemptive emergen-c anyway. What mattered was his fiancé, who was miserable and shivering.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Blaine," Kurt said softly, holding Blaine even tighter. "You hear me?"

Blaine made some unintelligible noise in his sleep, but didn't respond much other than that.

"Never again," Kurt whispered, arms securely around Blaine.

He drifted off soon after, and once they were both asleep, Blaine's frown smoothed out, a calm expression falling over his face as he slept in Kurt's arms.


	17. It's All in His Mind

_Another prompt with Blaine having schizophrenia, but this time Anderberry siblings where Blaine and Rachel are twins._

… … …

Looking back, Rachel thought, there had been signs of Blaine's condition. His illness. His disorder. Whatever the correct term was.

All kids had imaginary friends, but none were as adamant about them as Blaine. Where most kids had imaginary friends named Gary or Lucy, Blaine had ones named things like Four and Green. Whenever their parents asked about Blaine's friends—about what they looked like, how old they were—it became increasingly clear that Blaine's imaginary friends weren't human. They were, instead, creatures of his own imagination.

It was rare for a child to develop schizophrenia, but it did happen, and it had happened to Rachel's twin brother Blaine. There were moments when Blaine would have a particularly volatile episode, and she would be very glad that whatever genetics played into the development of schizophrenia, she didn't get them. Then she'd feel like a terrible person and go to her room and cry her way through another outstanding solo.

As they got older, Blaine's schizophrenia got more under control. Their dads had taken him to several specialists and psychiatrists, and they eventually found a medication that worked for Blaine to keep the hallucinations and delusions to a minimum.

Their dads were firm about not having Blaine committed to a mental hospital. They wanted him at home, with his family, surrounded by love at all times.

Rachel and Blaine's younger adolescent years passed by relatively quietly, compared to their childhood where Blaine would scream and pull out his hair and try to stab people with forks. The medication was working, and Blaine would whisper to Rachel at night from the top bunk in their room about how good he was doing.

"I haven't heard the voices at all today, Rachey," he whispered to her when they were twelve. "They're gone, I think. And I haven't seen Four in months. Is that a bad thing? Does that mean Four doesn't like me anymore?"

"No, BB," Rachel whispered back. "I think it means Four liked you enough to let you live your life normally. It's a good thing."

"That's good." After a long pause, Blaine spoke up again. "Hey, Rachey?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're my sister. You never make me feel crazy or anything. You're the best older sister anyone could ask for."

"I'm only a minute older, Blaine."

"I know. But it still counts."

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "I love you too, BB."

Things got bad again when they went to high school. Blaine came out to everyone at school—against Rachel's and their dads' advisement—and he was picked on mercilessly. The constant teasing and bullying added more stress to his life, making his schizophrenia get bad again.

Instead of whispering to Rachel at night, when they were fifteen, Blaine would whisper to himself.

_"No. I can't do that. It's not right. He's my friend, he wouldn't hurt me. No, that's not true. You can't say that. That's not fair. Why are you being so mean? I can't listen to you! You're lying!"_

And then things got even worse when Blaine was bashed at school after their freshman year Sadie Hawkins dance. He was in the hospital for about a month after, recovering from internal bleeding and organ damage and broken bones and cuts and bruises. There was _so much _wrong with him that it made Rachel's heart ache to visit.

But she did, because she was Blaine's big sister by one minute, and he needed her.

One night over the weekend while Blaine was still in the hospital, she couldn't sleep. With Blaine gone, their room was too empty. Too quiet. So, she grabbed her papa's car keys off the counter (she had a permit, anyway, and she was positive that if she could take the test right then even at two in the morning in her bunny slippers and pink flower pajamas she's pass with flying colors) and drove to the hospital, sneaking into Blaine's room.

He was asleep in his bed, the IV still hooked up to his arm and the bruising on his face still there, even though it'd faded away considerably since he'd first been admitted.

She didn't want to wake him up. He needed his rest, she knew. So she brought one of the more comfortable chairs in the room over to the side of Blaine's bed and sat back in it, reaching to hold Blaine's hand as she slept.

After that, their dads transferred Blaine to Dalton Academy, a boarding school of sorts for boys. It had a zero-tolerance bullying policy, so Blaine would be safe there. Well, safe from bullies. He still wasn't safe from his own mind. Their dads had been skeptical to send him to live there by himself, but he'd assured them that he'd be fine and he'd take his medication and everything would be okay.

Except it wasn't, and Blaine only lasted there one year before their dads were transferring both Blaine and Rachel to a new school, McKinley High. It was a longer commute, but it was worth it for them both to get a clean slate away from Blaine's old bullies, and Blaine would be back home again. Everything would be good.

And it was. Because that's where Blaine met Kurt and Rachel met Finn.

Now, Rachel had never imagined she'd fall for a jock, but this particular jock just also happened to sing and dance in their school's glee club, which Blaine and Rachel both signed up for on their first day.

Things were very good for them there. Rachel had a happy and only sometimes problematic relationship with Finn Hudson, she was captain of thirteen clubs by her second month at the school, she was the star of glee club, and she had a 4.0 GPA. Blaine had a _very _happy and seemingly _never _problematic relationship with Kurt Hummel, he was in his fair share of clubs, got several solos in glee, and managed to keep his own grades up as well.

It made Rachel happy to see her brother doing so well. Their lives up to that point had been so rocky between Blaine's schizophrenia and his bullying that she wasn't sure how things would go for them on any given day, but she was glad they were so good.

And she liked Kurt. He treated Blaine well and wasn't afraid to be seen with Blaine in public, which was a very special bonus.

Kurt even knew about Blaine's schizophrenia, too. And he wasn't running scared.

Blaine had brought Kurt home after school one day (as he so often did) and requested that he have his and Rachel's room alone with Kurt, so Rachel obliged, saying she'd just be doing her homework downstairs. Of course, that's not what she did at all. Instead, she crept up the stairs after Blaine had shut their door and sat outside, listening to them.

"Blaine, is everything okay? When you said we needed to talk, I got kind of scared you were going to break up with me."

"What? No! No, no. God, no."

"Oh, good. I don't want that."

She heard Blaine pause on the other side of the door. "I hope you still feel that way after I tell you this."

"Tell me what, Blaine?"

"I…I have schizophrenia. And I mean, it's under control, you don't have anything to worry about. I take medication and I'm fine, for the most part. It was bad, when I was younger, but we've been managing it well. You don't have to worry about me freaking out at you or anything like that. I just…wanted to tell you, so…now you know."

There was a long pause that made Rachel's heart fall to the pit of her stomach before she heard Kurt say, "Thank you for sharing that with me, Blaine. That was very brave."

"You don't want to break up with me? I know it's a lot to handle. I can't promise I'll always be as okay as I am right now."

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. And granted, this is my first relationship, but…it feels special. To me, at least."

"To me too," Blaine answered quietly.

They talked some more about it, Rachel was sure, but after that it just felt like intruding, so she tip-toed back down the stairs and actually opened her books to do her homework at the kitchen table. Still, she couldn't help smiling into her textbooks. Her brother had found a keeper, that was for sure.

And that only became more clear as time wore on. Their junior year passed much more peacefully than their other school years, but towards the end of it, all the seniors at school were buzzing about graduation and all the juniors were obsessing over SATs and ACTs and college applications. Kurt would come over and talk endlessly about different summer internships he was thinking of taking to better his chances at getting into college. Rachel was focusing more on SAT and ACT prep courses, because she'd cemented her summer internship months ago.

Blaine, however, was not handling the stress of it all very well. The more she and Kurt talked about things relating to college, the more Blaine felt overwhelmed. Rachel could see it in his eyes, and in the way he couldn't sit still, and in the lip twitch he got when he spoke when he was under a lot of stress.

At night, when they were in their bunk beds, Rachel tried to comfort him by whispering, "It's not a big deal, Blaine. The college stuff. You're so smart, I'm sure you don't need prep courses. And you have a lot of activities on your resume as it is—"

"Shut up, Rachel," Blaine hissed.

Rachel recoiled in her bed as if Blaine had slapped her. Whispering at night had been their thing ever since childhood. It was one of their special twin connections. She knew Blaine didn't mean it, but it still stung all the same.

"These bunk beds are stupid," Blaine added. "We're too old to be sharing a room, much less a bed. I'm talking to Dad tomorrow about getting my own room."

Rachel clenched her jaw and tried not to let her brother's hatred get to her. After all, it wasn't his hatred, but that of the voices he heard and the things he saw. He was a victim of his own mind, and Rachel couldn't blame him for that. So she rolled towards the wall and tried to get some sleep.

They'd made it semi-peacefully to finals week, which Rachel was grateful for. Towards the end of Wednesday of finals week, they all gathered in glee club at the end of the day to work on their performance for graduation. Rachel could see it in Blaine's eyes the second he walked through the door that something was very wrong and this was a bad day for him.

Kurt trailed after him looking worried, so Rachel scurried over to Kurt. "What happened?"

"I think he bombed his pre-calc test," Kurt sighed. "But he won't talk to me about it. He's been muttering to himself the entire way here."

"Shit," Rachel muttered, and Rachel Berry was not one to curse unless it was under dire circumstances.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Kurt asked.

Rachel nodded. "He'll be fine. But I think I ought to take him home early—"

"I know you two are talking about me, you know," Blaine barked across the room, glaring at them. "You're not being very subtle.

Glee club hadn't officially started yet, but everyone was in the room anyway, and they all stopped at Blaine's tone, turning to stare at him.

He caught on immediately and snapped his gaze around the room, saying, "And you all can stop staring at me any minute now."

Everyone looked away, unnerved by Blaine's sudden volatile actions.

Rachel was the only one who understood, really. Kurt knew about it, sure but he'd never seen Blaine first hand when he was out of control. Kurt tapped Rachel on the shoulder and leaned into her ear and whispered, "What do we do? How can I help?"

"Stop conspiring against me!" Blaine yelled, standing up from his chair and walking towards them. "What are you two planning, huh? My boyfriend and my twin sister. It figures the two people I trust the most would gang up on me."

"Blaine, we're not planning anything," Rachel tried to explain in the calm voice she knew worked best in these situations.

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I saw you two. What, were you planning to steal my thoughts? Is that it?" Blaine paused, eyes going far away before narrowing them at Rachel. "Oh, I see now. You're not smart enough to do well on your stupid college tests, so you're going to steal my thoughts and copy off me. Well I won't let you!"

"I wasn't going to do that, Blaine," Rachel said.

Blaine turned away from her then and covered his ears, bending over and screaming, "STOP YELLING AT ME! I HEAR YOU!"

Mr. Schue picked that time to come through the door, frowning at the sight of Blaine and the faces of the others in the room. "What's going on?" he asked.

Blaine snapped to attention again, glaring at Mr. Schue. He nodded once before charging at his teacher, pinning him up against the wall. "Why would you do that!"

"Do what?" Mr. Schue asked, obviously trying to remain calm even though he had no idea what was going on.

"You've been having secret meetings with all the teachers to fail me! You just want to keep me here and use me for my voice! I'M NOT YOUR PUPPET!"

Rachel stepped in then, coming up behind Blaine. Knowing better than to touch him, she stepped into his side-line of vision and said, "Blaine, Mr. Schue hasn't done anything wrong. Let him go."

"He's trying to fail me!"

"He's not doing anything. Who's talking to you, Blaine? Which one is it?" He didn't answer her, but he turned his head to the side and looked at his shoulder, and Rachel knew it was probably the squirrel he often hallucinated there named Chuck.

(When they were in middle school, they were walking home from the bus stop and saw a dead squirrel on the side of the road. Blaine wanted to try and save it, but Rachel warned him not to touch it because it could have diseases and kill him. After that, Blaine started seeing the squirrel everywhere, and from what Rachel gathered, the squirrel wanted to get back at everyone in the world for being run over, so it ordered Blaine to hurt the people around him).

"Blaine, don't listen to Chuck, okay? He's mean and he lies to you all the time. You know that. Remember?"

Blaine shook his head, frowning. He dropped his arms and let Mr. Schue go, though, and took several steps back. Rachel made eye contact with her teacher and mouthed _I'm sorry _before focusing on Blaine again. By his stance, she could tell it was safe to touch him again, so she laid a hand on his bicep.

"Look at me, Blaine." He didn't look up, so she said, "BB, it's Rachey. Please look at me."

Using their nicknames for each other seemed to jar him awake. He lifted his gaze to hers and frowned. "Why is this happening to me? Why won't they leave me alone?"

"You're just stressed. That's all this is. Things always get worse when you're stressed. Let's call dads and meet them at home. They'll know what do to. Okay?"

Blaine hesitated for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"Okay. Let's get your bag and go," Rachel said. She walked him over to the chair he'd sat down in when he got in the room and grabbed his bag before ushering him to the door. "I'll meet you at the car, alright? I'm right behind you," she said.

Blaine just nodded again and walked down the hallway slowly. Rachel stepped back into the classroom and got everyone's attention.

"I apologize for what you all just witnessed. My brother is not dangerous, though it did appear that way. He'll be just fine, and if he wants to tell you about what happened today, that's his decision, but I'll leave it up to him. I'm very sorry for the disturbance." Then she turned to Kurt, who still looked a little shocked and concerned. "Are you okay? I know it's one thing to know about it, but it's another to see it."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm just concerned. I've never… Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. Things tend to get bad when he's under a lot of stress. I'll make sure he calls you when he feels up to it, okay? And if he doesn't, I'll text you."

"Thank you, Rachel."

"You won't break up with him, right?"

"No, of course not. The day he told me about his…illness, I said I'd never break up with him for it. This doesn't change anything. I still love your brother very much."

Rachel knew how much it meant for Kurt to say he loved Blaine; she didn't even know if they were saying it to each other yet. So she just kissed Kurt on the cheek and said, "Thank you for being good to my Blaine," before leaving the room, heading to the car.

Blaine was waiting, leaning against the passenger side door. She'd been worried about leaving him alone, but she knew she had to say something to the glee club. It was only polite after what happened.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she approached him.

He nodded slowly. "Tired."

She unlocked the doors and got in with him, then started driving them home.

Rachel really wished she had a normal brother. Not because she thought he was crazy or weird or repulsive. Not because she was embarrassed of him, or ashamed. Rachel loved her brother more than she loved herself—which was a big statement coming from her—and she just wished he was able to live his life with ease. No voices, no hallucinations, no seeing things or hearing things that aren't there. No imaginary source telling him to hurt people or hurt himself. He was a prisoner in his own mind, and it broke Rachel's heart every time she thought about it.

She glanced over at him when they were at a red light. His body sagged in the seat, his head leaning against the window as he stared unseeing out at the cars and trees around them. She reached a hand across the center consoles and took one of Blaine's in hers.

He didn't react at first, never looked over at her, but then he squeezed her hand, and she knew it'd be okay.

He'd be okay.


	18. How the Caged Bird Sings

_Blaine begins self-harming and Kurt doesn't immediately tell him to stop, but instead tries to get to the cause rather than just stopping the coping mechanism._

… … …

Blaine moving to New York was nothing like either of them had planned. Kurt felt crowded, Blaine felt ignored, Kurt felt suffocated, Blaine felt unappreciated, and they both felt irritated. They considered living separately—Blaine getting his own apartment—but it felt wrong. They were going to have to learn how to live with each other eventually. They'd be married before long, and then no matter how much they got on each other's nerves, they couldn't move out.

So they tried to make it work. Kurt tried being more flexible and accommodating and Blaine tried not trying so hard. It worked, for a while, and they fell into an easy rhythm. Blaine changed his classes back so he and Kurt only shared three, they only had lunch together every other day, and since their days started and ended at different times, they walked to and from school alone.

Their routines became less about spending as much time with each other as possible and more about living separate lives until they came together at the end of the day and told each other about them. Things got better and there wasn't quite as much yelling around the apartment anymore. Small fights over things like a soda machine didn't happen as much anymore.

Of course, they still drove each other crazy. How could they not? They were two different people. But at the end of the day, they were two separate people who worked well together. They complemented each other and strengthened each other in their togetherness, like the inner workings of a clock; the way the gidgets and gadgets clink together in synchronisation.

It wasn't perfect, but then again, nothing ever was.

It was home, though. Through all of their bickering and disagreements and angry sex and make-up sex, they'd found a home together.

"What do you want to watch?" Kurt asked, sinking onto the couch beside Blaine.

Blaine shrugged. "Whatever you want to watch."

"So you'd watch a documentary about mermaids with me?"

"Sure."

"Blaine, you hate stuff like that."

"If you like it, we can watch it."

"Okay," Kurt sighed.

He put it on HGTV for a show about renovating houses.

Their relationship had lost some of its former passion, but it was nothing to be concerned about. All relationships lose that burning flame at some point. There are ways of rekindling it. Neither of them were much worried. On the contrary, they were grateful. It was a nice reprieve from the frantic and passionate energy their relationship usually had. Instead, they had settled. They were calm and smooth, a trickling stream instead of white water rapids.

They were both a little glad to not need life vests anymore.

And Blaine wouldn't say he was unhappy, per say. He smiled, and laughed, and enjoyed his life. He went out to coffee and had study sessions with his classmates. He went on date nights with Kurt and came back to the loft and played a game of who could be the most quiet during sex so their roommates wouldn't hear. (They both lost. Every time).

Kurt wasn't unhappy, either. He was finally thriving at NYADA and moving up at his internship at . He went to events with co-workers and then came home and gossiped about all of them with Blaine in bed. He discovered a new farmer's market not far from their apartment and took a weekend cooking class to learn how to make new pies from scratch with fresh produce.

They weren't unhappy. They were settled.

Settled, though, for an artist was stifling. Most of their super artsy friends lived in studio apartments or lofts with ten other people—(which sounded familiar)—and worked random odd jobs around the city. Some of them would go through craigslist and answer random job adds to paint someone's house or de-clutter their living room, just to feel the danger of answering a craigslist add in New York City.

Artists are thrill seekers. They stand at the edge of cliffs looking down to feel their stomachs in their throats and use the feeling to act out or paint or write the meaning of human existence. They run across the street in traffic dodging cars to feel the rush in their mind and the freedom in their hearts of toeing the line between life and death and knowing they were in charge of which way they fell.

Kurt and Blaine had lost sight of that. They had forged their routines and they settled.

In his beginning acting class mid-semester, Blaine's professor instructed them all to pick a space in the room and sit on the floor there and close their eyes. The professor turned off most of the lights and walked slowly around the room, instructing them to think of the time they felt the most vulnerable. He urged them to push themselves, to really dig deep. To not imagine the time when their pet dog Spot died when they were eight, but rather to find the time when their parents divorced and placed them in the middle of the nasty custody battle.

Afterwards, the professor asked if anyone would like to share. He encouraged everyone to do so, because to be vulnerable with your fellow actors was to grow; grow in one's self, and grow in others.

Three students left the room crying. One boy tentatively raised his hand and shakily told the class of the first time he cut himself. He told them of the panic he felt before—the desperation. He told them of his neglectful father and his absent mother. He told them of the way he'd smashed his mother's old, rusty disposable razor with a shampoo bottle to free the blades. He told them of the way his vision blurred with tears as he pressed the blade to his skin for the first time, splitting his skin open with a sort of shaky precision.

Then he joined the three students before him and fled the room crying.

Other people were too scared to share and so the professor dismissed them for the day, but Blaine had been affected by the boy's story. He ran into the hall and tracked the boy down, finding him sitting against the wall crying against the wall at the end of the hall.

Blaine knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his knee to get his attention and asked, "And after?"

The boy blinked up at him. "What?"

"How did you feel? After you cut yourself?"

"I…" The boy took a deep breath, still crying, and said, "I felt better than I had in years. I felt light, like I could breathe… I felt free. Like I could fly."

That was all Blaine needed to know.

Kurt and Blaine had stopped having sex as frequently, but neither of them made a big deal of it. They were both busy and usually tired. It had only been a couple of weeks, anyway, and they knew that a lot of couples sometimes went months without sex. Of course, those couples were usually heading towards a break up, but they felt secure. They weren't worried.

It had been two weeks since Blaine's class that Kurt walked into the bathroom without knocking to dab on some cologne before class as Blaine showered.

Or, Blaine was supposed to be showering. Instead, Kurt found him sitting on the edge of the tub in only his boxers (the hems pulled up high), right hand drawing neat lines across the top of his thigh with a razor blade. Blood was running down both sides of Blaine's leg, dripping onto the tiled floor.

Blaine looked up when the door opened, a deer caught in the act of cutting itself. Or headlights. However the saying goes.

"What—" Kurt cleared his throat, standing still, eyes fixed on the red against the pale. "What are you doing?"

Blaine was quiet for a long moment. He looked as if he were actually considering the question; searching for the answer. Finally, he met Kurt's eyes and said, "I don't know."

Kurt frowned and walked over to him, plucking the razor blade out of his hand. Calmly, he opened the cabinet above the toilet and pulled out a washcloth, running it under the faucet before bringing it over to Blaine, cleaning his leg. It looked like their were six cuts this time, but there were many other still healing scabs and shiny new bright pink scars on the tops of both his thighs.

When the blood was clean, Kurt lay the washcloth on top of the cuts and applied pressure, looking up at Blaine. "Are you unhappy?"

"No," Blaine said after a pause.

"Are you hurting? Emotionally?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you depressed?"

"Isn't that the same thing as unhappy?"

"No."

"Well…I don't think so."

Kurt tilted his head to the side, reaching up a hand to cradle the side of Blaine's face. "Then why would you do this to yourself?"

Blaine looked down at his leg, staring at the washcloth and knowing what lay beneath it. He met Kurt's eye and shrugged. "The universe is both unknowable and inexpressible."

"What does that even mean?" Kurt sighed, frowning at him and dropping his hand.

"It's the definition of absurdist theatre."

With that, Blaine stood, peeling off the washcloth and laying it on the side of the sink before stepping into the tub. He pulled the shower curtain closed around him and turned on the spray.

After that, Kurt kept a close watch on Blaine. He'd tell Blaine to get naked at night, not for sex but to see if Blaine made any new cuts and how many there were. It seemed there were at least two or three more every other day.

Kurt wanted to tell him to stop. Every slash he saw on Blaine's thighs or hips or upper arms were slashes that Kurt felt to the very core of himself. It hurt him to know that his fiancé was hurting himself this way. Kurt wanted to know the cause of it even more, though. He wanted to understand. There was a root problem here that he was missing; something that was triggering Blaine into inflicting pain on himself. Kurt needed to know what it was.

He couldn't fix the problem if he didn't know what the problem was.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked, thumbs gently rubbing over the lines on Blaine's naked hips.

Blaine shrugged. "Anything."

"Every time you want to do this—want to hurt yourself—I want you to talk to me first. I'm not saying you have to stop, I know it's not that simple. But I…I need to understand why you're doing this."

After a long pause, Blaine leaned in and kissed Kurt on the mouth, long and sweet. When he pulled back, he said, "Okay," and then pulled his underwear back on.

It was the very next day that Blaine felt the urge to cut himself. He and Kurt were shopping at the new farmer's market Kurt had discovered on a cool Sunday morning. The sun was shining, and the produce was great. There were a lot of interesting people milling about. They were standing at a stand where someone was selling homemade soaps, and Kurt was holding one out to Blaine.

"Do you think this one smells good?" Kurt asked.

"I want to cut myself," Blaine replied.

Kurt frowned, still holding the soap out to Blaine. "What?"

"You asked me to tell you when I have the urge to cut myself. Well, I do."

No one was listening to their conversation, but Kurt set the soap down and pulled Blaine aside all the same.

"Okay. Talk me through it. Why here? Why now?"

Blaine shrugged, looking away. "I don't know. I just do."

"You just do?"

"Yeah."

"Could you maybe try to talk about it? What were you thinking right before you came to that conclusion?"

"I was thinking…" Blaine trailed off, looking at all the people. "I was thinking about the zoo."

"The zoo?" Kurt asked, frowning.

"Yeah."

"What about the zoo?"

"The animals, I guess. I was thinking about the way they're all imprisoned there. Everyone always talks about birds in cages, but what about lions in a false habitat with glass walls so people can watch them? They're…they're ferocious. They hunt, they kill, they eat. They're dangerous. Yet, people put them in a glass box of false security, and they lose all their ferocity. They're no longer the wild cat they once were. They've changed. Their lives consist of eating small slabs of raw meat thrown to them by people, drinking water out of a man-made pond, and lounging in the sun. Nothing more."

Blaine took a deep breath and met Kurt's gaze. "These people here, they remind me of the zoo. They're animals that have been thrown into boxes of false security and stability. Only they did it willingly."

Kurt reached down to grab Blaine's hand, threading their fingers together. "Do you feel like you're living in a box of false stability?"

"I don't know. Sometimes, I guess."

Kurt thought a lot about that for the next few days. He mulled over what Blaine meant, how Blaine felt. Or, how Kurt assumed Blaine felt, since he didn't really get a straight answer on that. He watched Blaine around the loft and in his life and wondered if Blaine felt like a wild cat, or if he felt like he'd been tamed and caged to a life of false routine.

Meanwhile, Blaine continued to tell Kurt in the moments he felt like cutting himself. They all seemed random to Kurt. When Blaine was out to coffee with his friends, or when he and Kurt were sitting on the couch watching the news in the morning before classes, or when Blaine was brushing his teeth while Kurt was in the shower. Seemingly normal moments in their lives had turned into something dark for Blaine.

Kurt didn't understand it and Blaine didn't know how to explain it.

The cutting didn't stop. Kurt asked Blaine to tell him when he got the urge, but he never said Blaine had to stop. On the contrary, he said Blaine didn't have to. So he didn't.

In bed at night, lying close to each other, Kurt's fingers ghosted over the raised lines on Blaine's bicep, making him shiver.

"What do you feel? When you do it?"

"Like helium, mostly."

Kurt's eyebrows knit together. "Helium?"

"Yeah, like when you blow up a balloon. It feels like I'm getting this injection of helium, and suddenly I'm floating. My body isn't held here anymore. I'm lifted up, propelled into the sky. It's not stagnant anymore, like air. It's helium. It's lifting."

Kurt leaned his forehead against Blaine's and whispered, "Sometimes I feel like you talk in riddles just to confuse me."

"Maybe I do," Blaine answered, pressing his lips to Kurt's before pulling back and rolling over, scooting backwards into Kurt's embrace.

After a while, the more riddles Blaine told Kurt, the more things started to make sense. Oftentimes, Kurt found himself doodling pictures that illustrated what Blaine had said; what Kurt thought he meant. And the more Kurt thought about it, the more it started making sense to him.

And _finally, _after a month of confusion, Kurt started coming up with possible solutions.

He signed Blaine up for a boxing tournament, took them up to the top of the Statue of Liberty and stood right at the edge, looking down; he took Blaine to a rock concert in the Bronx for a band neither of them had heard of; he even bought Blaine a motorcycle and signed him up for a class to get certified to drive it.

He messed up their routine, encouraging Blaine to go to a rave some random kids were talking about in the bathroom at school, skipping class and shopping at different places for groceries every time. He surprised Blaine with a blowjob on the couch in the middle of the afternoon when everybody was out of the loft but them. He even started surprising Blaine on random days and joining him on the subway ride to school instead of going separately.

Slowly, without Blaine even noticing, the urge to cut came to him less often. He tried smoking marijuana at a party last night, he didn't need to cut today. He drove his motorcycle to meet Kurt for coffee after class at a place they'd never tried before and almost got hit by a taxi, he didn't need to cut tonight.

The safety and security of being settled wore off. They were no longer the boring couple who stayed in. They were the couple who was willing to try anything once. They were the couple who drove and rode motorcycles and went skydiving over Thanksgiving break and visited the Grand Canyon over Christmas break, finding a spot not railed off and standing on the cliff's edge.

Blaine didn't need to cut himself to feel alive anymore.

He just lived.


	19. The One With Katy Perry

_Prompt: Katy Perry is Blaine's sister and that's why he loves her music so much and the New Directions meet her and find out they are related. Maybe ND meets her while sleeping over at Blaine's house and she visits?_

… … …

Everyone knew about Blaine's older brother Cooper Anderson, star of a credit rating site commercial but soon to be staring in a new TV show on ABC. His relative fame interested everyone in New Directions, and ever since Cooper had come to visit, Blaine received a never-ending stream of questions about his brother and if Cooper had connections in the business and if he could help them land roles.

It was endlessly frustrating, and Blaine knew then that his friends were _not _ready to meet his older sister.

Towards the end of Blaine's junior year, before Kurt and all of his senior friends would be leaving, Blaine thought a New Directions sleepover was in order. It was to take place the week before nationals to really get them to come together as a team and feel like a family. There had been so much drama that year with Santana coming out, and Quinn getting hit by a car, and Karofsky's suicide attempt. Blaine just wanted everyone to be happy.

His house was giant, anyway, with three guest rooms, plus Blaine's own room, his sister's, his brother's, and his parents. His sister was around less often than even Cooper, but their parents still kept her room the same no matter how long it took her to visit.

It wasn't like they needed the space.

He was sure his parents would say no to the sleepover. After all, he was asking to have fourteen kids spend the night at their house, which required accommodations for sleeping and food enough for everybody. It was a big favor, but one Blaine was hoping his parents would say yes to.

And they did, after Blaine brought up Kurt and how this was one of their last times to spend together and have fun before he and all the other seniors went off to other states.

So it was arranged. The New Directions were to come over that Friday night. Blaine had asked them to wait until 8pm so he'd have time to get everything ready. His parents had agreed to order enough pizza for everybody, so the food was taken care of, but Blaine still wanted to make sure the house was clean and all the guest bedrooms were made up perfectly.

"Excited about tonight?" Kurt asked, coming up to Blaine at his locker after school.

Blaine smiled. "Of course. I think this will be a really good opportunity for us to really come together as a group."

"Too bad it's so late in the year," Kurt sighed.

"Yeah, but it'll still be fun."

"I think so." Kurt glanced around the hall before leaning in close and settling a hand on Blaine's hip. "So, what are the sleeping arrangements?"

"Well," Blaine said, smirking, "I was thinking we could just do the easy, obvious thing and have all the girls in one room and the boys in another. If a group of them want to get together in the third room I guess it doesn't make much difference."

"And where will I be sleeping?"

"Right next to me, of course," Blaine said, rising up to kiss Kurt quickly on the lips. "Unless that's an issue for you."

"Not at all. Can I come with you to help set up?"

"I would never turn down alone time with you, my dear."

"Alone time? Your parents aren't home?"

Blaine shook his head and closed his locker door, threading his fingers through Kurt's as they headed down the hall to Blaine's car. "Nope. They won't be home until after seven. That's why the others can't come over until eight."

"Then we'll have hours alone? In your big house? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Indeed it is."

"Blaine Anderson, I think it's time we continue checking off our list of places to make out in your house."

Blaine laughed, squeezing Kurt's hand. "I was thinking the same thing."

Blaine drove them back to his house, letting them in and setting the place up for the sleepover. His parents had bought several bottles of soda, so he set those up along the kitchen island, as well as setting out the solo cups and a sharpie for people to write their names on their cups. There were chips, cookies, and a variety of other snacks on top of the pizza his parents were going to get.

Then, he and Kurt went upstairs and made sure all of the guest rooms were ready, made out on all of the guest beds, and then had to remake all of the guest beds. Most of them were queen sizes, so each would probably fit about three people. They set up the air mattresses too, covering them in sheets and blankets.

The living room was the last place they chose to set up, hooking up the Xbox to the TV and setting out all the games and controllers for whoever wanted to play, then setting out a stack of magazines and a collection of nail polish Blaine had managed to steal from his sister's room when Kurt wasn't looking. Kurt didn't even know Blaine _had _a sister, so he'd had to lie and say one of Cooper's girlfriends had left all the nail polish there.

After everything was set up, Blaine pulled Kurt on top of him on the couch and they kissed and kissed until neither of them could breathe anymore. Kurt came up for air after a while, smiling and sweeping his thumb over Blaine's lips.

"I love the way your mouth looks after we've been kissing for a while," Kurt said.

Blaine raised his eyebrows, smiling. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Kurt told him, nodding and leaning back in for another kiss. "You look sexy all debauched and disheveled," Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips. "You should see your hair."

"I better have time to fix my hair before everyone shows up," Blaine told him, running a hand up and down Kurt's back, resting at Kurt's butt and squeezing.

Kurt laughed, ducking his head down. "You'll have plenty of time, don't worry."

They kept making out, rolling their hips together and moaning, until Blaine heard the door being unlocked. Kurt hurriedly climbed off of him and went to stand in the corner, facing the wall, pretending to straighten out a picture on the wall.

Blaine pulled a pillow over his lap and tried to sit in a casual way on the couch, watching Kurt.

"Tilt it a little more to the left," Blaine said.

His parents walked into the room, then, watching them. "Hello, Blaine," his mom said. "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt looked over his shoulder and smiled but didn't turn around. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson! Mr. Anderson. I came over to help Blaine set up for the sleepover. I hope that's okay."

"That's perfectly alright, Kurt. I'm sure Blaine appreciated the help," his dad said, giving Blaine a pointed look.

Blaine smiled and nodded, trying his best to look innocent. "Yeah, it's been great. We set up all the air mattresses and guest bedrooms and all the snacks and entertainment. Kurt was a great help fixing everything up."

"I'm sure he was," his mom said, looking amused. "Maybe you and Kurt can go upstairs and he'll fix your hair for you, since I'm assuming he's the one who messed it up?"

Blaine flushed and touched a hand to his hair, trying to flatten it out. "We weren't-I mean, no, this is because-"

"We would never," Kurt tried to say.

Blaine's parents only smiled and shook their heads as they walked away. "We were teenagers once too, you know!" his dad called. "Go make yourselves presentable for company!"

"Oh, my god. That was mortifying," Blaine said as soon as he heard his parents go upstairs.

Kurt laughed, turning back around and pulling Blaine up off the couch. "We really should've been more careful about your hair."

"We were a little preoccupied," Blaine said. "To be fair."

They went upstairs to Blaine's bathroom, connected to his bedroom, and fixed themselves up, then ruined their clothes and hair all over again against Blaine's bathroom counter, then smoothed everything out for the final time, laughing at themselves.

"We're crazy," Blaine said, shaking his head.

Kurt shrugged. "The clock is ticking, mister. We gotta get as much make out time in as we can."

Blaine's mood dropped a little. He pouted at Kurt. "Yeah. Good point."

"Don't worry," Kurt said, kissing his nose. "We still have the rest of the school year and all summer. I'm not going to New York until August, remember? Let's just focus on now."

"You're right. The New Directions should be showing up any minute, so we should probably go downstairs."

Kurt checked the time on his phone and said, "Rachel will be here right on the dot, so we might as well stand at the door for her."

Blaine laughed, taking Kurt's hand as they went down the stairs. Sure enough, two minutes later as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed for eight o'clock, the doorbell rang. They opened it and there stood Rachel, smiling with a full-sized suitcase and a pillow under her arm.

"Thank you very much for inviting me to this New Directions sleepover, Blaine. I think it's just a wonderful idea to bring the club together and I don't know why we've never done it before!"

"Probably a lack of space," Blaine suggested.

Rachel nodded. "Probably. In any case, I've brought the things I'll be needing for the night. Where should I put them?"

"Second door on the left at the top of the stairs," Blaine said, pointing up.

"Fantastic!" Rachel said, smiling and stepping into the house.

Before Blaine closed the door, he spied another car pulling up, and out stepped Sam, Mercedes, and Tina.

"Hey, guys!" Blaine waved from the door.

They all waved back their greetings, and Kurt slipped an arm around Blaine's waist as he saw Sam and Mercedes holding hands.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Tina said, grinning.

"If you start crying, I'm out," Mercedes said.

Tina looked offended but ignored her and stepped into the house, hugging Blaine and then Kurt. Sam and Mercedes did the same, then looked around.

"Your house is humongous, Blaine," Sam said. "I can't believe I've never been here."

"We don't really have a lot of people over, oddly enough," Blaine said. "But your rooms are upstairs! Mercedes and Tina, you guys are the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Sam, you're in the room directly across the hall from theirs."

Rachel came back downstairs then, holding an array of vegan foods in her arms and asking where she could put them. Kurt showed her to the kitchen while Blaine stood at the door, greeting everyone else as they arrived. Quinn, Artie, and Joe were next, then Finn, Puck, and Mike, then Sugar and Rory. Brittany and Santana were last to show up, both looking about how Blaine and Kurt had looked when Blaine's parents came home. Blaine laughed as he gestured for them to come inside, directing them to the girls' room upstairs to set down their things.

Soon enough, the party was in full swing. Blaine's parents came down a short time later to order the pizzas, taking a survey of what everyone wanted. Most of the boys, plus Quinn and Brittany, played video games while the rest of the girls plus Kurt all sat in a circle behind the couch, flipping through the magazines Blaine had laid out and talking about fashion and the latest celebrity gossip.

Santana interestingly didn't really hang with either group. She instead chose to sit next to Brittany on the floor in front of the couch, but engage in a conversation with Blaine where he sat on the adjacent loveseat.

"This was really cool of you to do, Anderson," she said, rubbing Brittany's knee absentmindedly. "I mean, your parents are obviously loaded, so it's not a hardship. But still. Pretty cool."

Blaine shrugged, smiling. "I just thought it'd be fun. Half of you guys are graduating and things aren't going to be the same at McKinley. I wanted one last night for us to just be us. You know, before we're not anymore."

Everything was going really well. The pizza arrived, and everyone had their fill (except for Rachel who ate her own vegan food). While they ate, they all circled around the coffee table, sitting on the loveseat and couch and floor, talking and laughing. Even after they had all finished eating, the entertainment Blaine had laid out was ignored in favor of continuing to talk and swap stories about school and glee.

Kurt gave Blaine a secret look from their spot on the loveseat beside Quinn, nudging him with his knee and smiling. "This is going really well. You did good, babe."

"Thanks," Blaine said, grinning.

Before long, it was getting late, so Blaine's parents headed upstairs and went to bed after making everyone promise to be on their best behavior. The glee kids decided to stay up as late as they could, so by 1am, they were still sitting in their circle, munching on chips and sipping their sodas.

Blaine thought he heard some clattering at the door, so he turned his head and perked his ears up, trying to listen.

Kurt gave him an odd look. "What is it?"

"I think I hear someone outside the door."

Sure enough, after a minute, whoever it was started knocking. None of the others seemed to notice, so Blaine got up and went to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked through the wood, not wanting to open it if it was a murderer.

"It's me! Let me in! Did you guys move the spare key _again_?"

Blaine cursed under his breath at the voice of his sister. He quickly unlocked the door and stared at her through the crack in the door. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I'm sorry! I had to catch a late flight! I was going to surprise you in the morning, but thank god you were already awake."

"You can't be here right now! I have, like, fourteen of my friends in the next room!"

"Blaine? Who is it?" Kurt asked, coming up behind Blaine.

Blaine turned and gave him a nervous smile. "It's nobody. Just the wind."

"The wind was knocking?"

"Is that your boyfriend?" his sister asked. She stuck her hand through the small crack in the door and waved. "Hi! Blaine has told me so much about you!"

"Blaine, who is that?"

Blaine groaned and stuck his head in the crack, giving his sister a look. "No one knows I have a sister, let alone who that sister is!"

"They can meet me now, though, right? You've got them all together, it's perfect!"

"Wasn't the whole point of you taking a stage last name to keep me and the family _out _of the spotlight? What do you think they're going to do when they find out my sister is—"

Kurt gasped from right behind him and said, "Oh my god, Blaine, why is Katy Perry at your door?"

Blaine groaned and banged his head against the doorframe. Then he turned to Kurt and pulled the door all the way open, gesturing to Katy. "Kurt, this is my sister, Katy."

After a long pause, Kurt managed to say, "You're joking."

"Could you guys maybe let me in?" Katy asked, holding up her luggage. "Paps were following me here. I lost them, but it won't take them long to drive this way and I'd rather be in the house for it."

Kurt and Blaine stepped aside and Katy walked in, setting her bags down. The conversation had quieted in the living room, and Quinn called out, "Blaine? Kurt? What are you guys doing?"

"They're probably making out," Mercedes said, and Blaine could practically hear her roll her eyes. "As if we wouldn't notice!"

"We'll be right back in!" Blaine called.

"What, you're not even going to give your big sister a hug? After a year? I'm hurt, Blaine!" Katy said, pouting and holding out her hands.

Blaine huffed and stepped into her arms, giving her a hug. He really did miss her, but now was not the best time for her to drop by unexpectedly. His friends could barely handle Cooper's vague fame. How were they going to handle that his older sister was an international pop star? He was so screwed.

He stepped back and gave her a smile. "I'm sorry, I really am happy to see you. This is just the _worst _possible time. My friends already bother me enough about having Cooper as my 'super famous brother.' They're going to freak when they find out you're my sister and I'll never hear the end of it."

Katy frowned. "Should I go, then? I could find a hotel."

"No, no, it's fine. They're trustworthy."

"Blaine, how could you not tell me you had a sister?" Kurt hissed. "And that your sister is _Katy Perry_? Oh my god, is that why you always sing her songs?"

"Awww, you sing my songs at school?" Katy asked, ruffling Blaine's hair. "That's so sweet!"

Blaine swatted her hand away. "Cut it out!"

"Guys! Who are you talking to?" Tina called.

"Okay, we are so talking about this later, but right now you need to introduce your famous pop star sister to our friends and get it over with," Kurt told him.

Blaine sighed. "Yeah. I know. Come on," he said, grabbing Katy's hand and stopping with her hidden behind the wall of the archway leading into the living room. Kurt came to stand beside him on his other side. "Sorry, guys, my sister just surprised me by coming into town on a late flight to visit."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Finn said.

"Neither did I," Sugar added.

There was a general murmur of agreement of the group before Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I know, I never talk about her because… Okay, it would be really great if none of you freaked out too loud, because my parents are asleep upstairs. This is my sister, Katy," he finally said, pulling her hand to get her to join him in the archway.

She smiled and waved at everybody. "Hi, everyone!"

For a moment, everyone was completely silent. Surprisingly, Mike was the one who spoke first.

"Blaine…are you trying to tell us that you're related to Katy Perry? Because if so, that would make _so _much sense, but…"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. She's my older sister."

Another silent pause, and then Rachel stood up and shouted. "That's not fair! You can't have _two _famous siblings!"

Katy laughed. "Cooper's not even that famous. God, he booked one commercial and suddenly he was calling me telling me he was going to be more famous than me within the year. He's so obnoxious."

"He actually booked a TV show recently," Blaine told her.

"Really?" Katy asked, turning to him.

"Yeah, he's gonna be the lead in a new show on ABC. He didn't call you?"

"Oh, I'm sure he did, I just haven't had a chance to check my messages. As soon as the filming on my music video wrapped I jumped on a plane here. I'm going on tour next year, so I wanted to get home while I had the chance."

"Right, yeah. The new album. You're reserving me tickets in Columbus, right?"

"Of course, Blainey," Katy smiled, ruffling Blaine's hair again.

He shrugged away from her, punching her in the arm. She went for his sides, tickling him until he lifted his hands up. "Okay, okay! I surrender! Cut it out! God, you're such a pain in the ass!"

Blaine had forgotten while he was talking to his sister that all of his friends and Kurt were still around. He straightened up, clearing his throat. "Sorry."

"Okay, I'm still trying to process this, because I have pictures from Katy Perry's Maxim photoshoot on my bedroom walls, and now she's here, and I kind of feel like I'm having a sex dream," Puck said.

Katy smiled. "Thank you!"

Blaine rolled his eyes and pushed his sister. "Shut up. Puck, this is not a sex dream, please keep your sexual fantasies about my sister to yourself."

"You're my idol," Sugar said, voice breathy and high. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Katy. "I sing your songs, like, all the time. Obviously, I sing them better than you, but you have a rockin' stage presence so it's okay that you're stealing my spotlight."

Katy leaned close to Blaine and muttered, "B, your friends are weird."

"I know. Why do you think I was reluctant to introduce you?"

"Your boyfriend seems nice though," Katy said, smiling beyond Blaine at Kurt. "You know, Blaine won't shut up about you. Every email and text and call I get is 'Kurt this' and 'Kurt that.' He really loves you."

Kurt smiled, placing a hand on Blaine's lower back. "I know. I really love him too. I still can't believe you're his sister. He really does sing your songs all the time."

"Well, he has every right to, he helps me write some of them."

Kurt's eyes grew wide and he whacked Blaine in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Blaine, you never told me you helped write your famous sister's songs!"

"I would've had to tell you about my famous sister and I wasn't ready for that yet!"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I hadn't figured that out yet. I didn't think it would be a big deal since she rarely has time to come home."

"I'm taking a month off to spend at home after this album tour," Katy said. "I promise."

Blaine smiled. "Really? That'd be so cool."

"You can help me work on new material."

"Let's focus on your new album that hasn't even been _released yet _first," Blaine laughed.

The glee club still hadn't said much. They were all gaping, but seemed to be getting more used to it the more they watched Blaine interact with his sister. After a beat of awkward silence, Katy shrugged and said, "Well, I'm gonna take my stuff up to my room. Is it cool if I come hang with you guys for a bit? I had, like, four coffees on the way here."

Everyone nodded excitedly, so Katy laughed and said she'd be right back before taking her stuff upstairs.

"Is this even real?" Kurt asked Blaine.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. When things started looking like they'd seriously work out for her in LA, she said she wanted to take a stage last name to keep us out of the spotlight. I was only two years old at the time. She didn't want me to have to grow up with paparazzi constantly swarming me. Cooper was still pretty young, too."

"This is crazy."

"I know. But it's pretty fun. She always tries to come home at least once a year to see me, though, which is nice. And she always reserves tickets for me at her Columbus shows whenever she does concerts."

"Can we all go?" Tina asked, bouncing. "When your sister does her tour. Can we all go to Columbus?"

Blaine laughed. "I'll ask."

After a few more minutes, Katy came back downstairs and sat on the end of the loveseat with Blaine in the middle and Quinn still on his other side. Kurt sat between Blaine's legs on the floor, his arms woven around Blaine's calves and Blaine's hands absentmindedly roaming Kurt's chest and shoulders.

The glee kids had a _million _questions for Katy, but she was gracious and patient and answered all of them. She told them fun tour stories and stories of Blaine as a baby and Cooper as a kid. She talked about the celebrities she knew, sharing stories she knew wouldn't matter if they were leaked to the press, like her afternoon hanging out with Taylor Swift after rumours were flying that they hated each other.

No one went to sleep that night. Even as they started yawning and getting tired, they seemed determined to stay awake. The next morning, when Blaine's parents came downstairs, they almost started chastising Blaine for letting everyone stay up all night when they saw Katy on the couch. She jumped up and gave them both hugs, effectively diffusing the situation.

It wasn't exactly the night Blaine had planned, but it was still a good night. They had certainly bonded as a group, too. They all understood that this had to be kept their secret, and no one else could find out that Katy was Blaine's sister. The shared experience of meeting Katy Perry in Blaine's living room brought them closer together in a weird way.

In the end, Blaine was glad his sister had decided to drop by. At least she wasn't as obnoxious about her fame as Cooper.

The doorbell rang as they all sat around eating breakfast. Blaine got up to answer it and groaned at who was standing there.

"Sounds loud in there. Do you have friends over, Squirt? Don't worry, Blaine's friends, his famous older brother Cooper has arrived!"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Katy's here."

Cooper deflated and stomped into the house, frowning. "Damnit, Katy!"


	20. Glasses

It isn't that Blaine can't see, per say. He can see just fine. Like, he can see the white erase board at the front of the classroom. And he can see the teacher writing on the board. He just can't see what she's writing.

"Hey," Blaine whispers, nudging Kurt beside him. "Can I borrow your notes after school?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Hand cramp," Blaine says, rolling his hand around in circles like his wrist is hurting.

Kurt offers a sympathetic smile. "I understand completely."

And Blaine knows he does, because at McKinley, Kurt never had to take notes at all. Here at Dalton, though, the teachers talk faster than anyone could possibly write, and yet they expect you to get every word of their lecture. It's almost like college, but Blaine figures Dalton is probably worse.

They usually end up studying together in one of their rooms after school anyway, so it wasn't like Blaine was asking a huge favor. They only had one more class after this and then they'd go to Warblers practice and from there, decide whose room they want to study in tonight.

When the bell rings, they slip their notebooks back into their messenger bags, then walk down the aisle of desks and meet at the front of the room to lock hands together as they walk down the hall.

"Who's going to save you in your next class?" Kurt asks as they head down the hall.

Blaine shrugs. "I'll get by."

It's what he's been doing for the past few months as he noticed his vision getting worse. The planes of Kurt's face didn't look as sharp and beautiful as they usually did, which was what _really _made Blaine take notice of the problem. But he'd rather suffer in silence than get glasses.

Class and Warblers rehearsal manage to go by quickly, and then Kurt and Blaine are heading to Kurt's room because his roommate is going on a date tonight and won't be back until curfew. They set up like they usually do, sitting with their legs crossed and facing each other on the bed, various textbooks and notebooks strewn between them.

And as much as Blaine wants to, he can't just throw the books across the room and climb on top of Kurt and start making out, because they've only been going out for about a month. They've made out a few times, sure, but Blaine isn't sure how well Kurt would take to being mauled.

But boy does Blaine want to.

"Blaine?"

Blaine comes to attention, shaking his head and realizing that he's just been staring at Kurt's lips. He clears his throat. "Yes?"

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was say so."

"Yeah?" Blaine asks, wondering if someone turned up the temperature in the room.

"Yeah. I mean, that's one of the privileges of being boyfriends, right? Kisses whenever we want?"

It never ceases to amaze Blaine how often Kurt catches him off guard. Kurt had been so timid and shy about things like this before, but now it was like being in a relationship with Blaine had unlocked all these intimate desires inside of Kurt to hold hands, to cuddle, to make out. It was refreshing and always made Blaine feel giddy.

"So we can stop studying?" Blaine asks, eyes bright and eager.

Kurt laughs, high and melodic in the way that still makes Blaine's blood sing. "No. We just started. But if you study with me for an hour we can make out after."

"You drive a hard bargain, Hummel," Blaine teases, but he turns back to his books anyway.

Kurt leans forward over the books and tilts Blaine's chin up, giving him a sweet kiss. "There. That should hold you over."

"Hardly, but I'll take it."

Kurt rolls his eyes fondly and picks his pen back up.

The thing is, as Blaine tries to read the chapter for history, he can't get the words to sharpen. They're soft around the edges, and each word has a clone of itself hovering just below where it should. He tries squinting, which helps but only a little, so he ducks his head down closer to the book, letting his head fall lower and lower until he's practically lying down with his face in the book.

He still can't get his eyes to focus.

"Blaine, what are you doing?" Kurt asks.

Blaine huffs. "I'm trying to read."

"So sit up."

"I can't see the words from there."

Kurt's eyes narrow. "Blaine, are you having trouble seeing? Is that why you need my notes? Because you can't see the board?"

"No," Blaine answers, rolling his eyes. "I can see just fine."

"You just said you couldn't see the words sitting up normally."

"I lied."

"No you didn't."

"You'll never know."

Kurt laughs, shaking his head. He holds three fingers up and says, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Blaine says, tone flat. "Kurt, I told you, I can see just fine."

"Yeah?" He picks up his notebook and scribbles something down on the page before getting up from the bed and standing across the room, holding it up. "What does this say?"

Blaine squints, leaning forward to try to get a better look at the paper. He can tell Kurt wrote bigger than necessary for the paper—the words weren't even in the lines—but he couldn't read whatever the sentence said.

"Um…"

"Point proven," Kurt says, walking back to the bed and tossing the notebook in Blaine's lap.

_If you can't read this, you need glasses._

Blaine gives Kurt a look. "Seriously?"

"Accept it, Blaine. You need glasses. You should call your parents and get an appointment with an optometrist."

"Noooo," Blaine whines. "I don't want to."

"Don't make me take your phone and call them for you."

"Don't do that," Blaine says quietly, taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it protectively. His parents still don't know about Kurt, and he wants to keep it that way as long as he can.

Why ruin a good thing?

Kurt reaches a hand forward and lets it rest on Blaine's knee, comforting. "I won't, but you need to. What are you so afraid of?"

Blaine doesn't want to admit that he's afraid he'd look like a dork with glasses and Kurt will think he's a nerd and everyone will make fun of him, so he shrugs. "Nothing, I guess. I mean, it's not a big deal. Okay, yeah, I'll call them."

"Good."

Kurt, sensing that Blaine's mood had lowered, starts closing all the books and notebooks in front of them and sets them on his dresser next to his bed, grabbing onto Blaine's blazer lapels and pulling him forward. "Come here."

Blaine smiles, crawling on the bed to get to Kurt, who immediately pulls him in for a kiss. Their lips move together softly. Blaine grabs the side of Kurt's face in one hand and lets his other hand rest gently at Kurt's waist as Kurt's hands circle around and hold him at his lower back.

They ease backward onto the bed, Blaine settling on top of Kurt. "Is this okay?" he asks.

Kurt nods. "It wouldn't kill you to lose the blazer, though."

Blaine laughs, pulling back a little to slip his blazer of his shoulders and throw it across the room in the general direction of where Kurt had hung his on the back of his desk chair. They start kissing again, and then all thoughts of his parents and needing glasses fade away.

Blaine really loves kissing Kurt.

… … …

The next week, Blaine slips on his new glasses as he gets ready for school. It'll be his first day wearing them to class and in front of everybody, and he's nervous, but thrilled he can actually _see _again. Everything was so much clearer, so much sharper, and it was like a whole new world had opened up to him when he got them the day before.

When he walks into his first class and takes his seat, no one really says anything or notices. It's not until Kurt comes in after him, sitting down next to him, that anyone says anything.

"Blaine! You got your glasses!"

"Yeah," Blaine says, smiling shyly. "I tried to find a good pair, but I didn't really feel like any of the frames fit me that well."

"No, honey, those are perfect. They look so good on you! How's your vision? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three. Again."

"Good job!"

Blaine laughs, shaking his head. Then, his smile drops. "Really, though. They don't look bad?"

Kurt tilts his head and smiles, placing a hand on Blaine's arm. "No, they don't. They look very good on you. You're still my very handsome boyfriend."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. You look sophisticated, and smart, and—"

"Are you saying I didn't look smart before?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fine. Don't take my compliments. You look awful. A total dork. Where's your Marvel backpack?"

"Mean," Blaine says, narrowing his eyes at him.

"You look good, Blaine. Really. The most important thing is that you can see. Can you see?"

Blaine turns and looks at the board where their teacher has already written a vague outline of their notes today. The words are all clear and sharp. He nods. "Yeah, actually. Wow."

"Then that's all that matters," Kurt says, grabbing Blaine's hand and squeezing it. "But on top of that, those glasses also look great on you. So stop worrying about it. They only make you more handsome."

As the day goes on, Blaine receives multiple compliments on his new glasses, proving Kurt right. All the worries he'd had about his new glasses fade completely by the end of the day, and when he and Kurt skip studying that afternoon altogether in favor of making out, Blaine can't even remember why he was nervous at all.


	21. Flu Season

They had all thought they'd escaped it. Flu season was supposed to be in the fall, and it was spring. So, naturally, they all stopped worrying. Rachel, of course, still drank her emergen-c every morning to keep her immune system at maximum strength, but the rest of them were totally unprepared when the flu hit.

And it did. It hit them hard. Every single one of them. Including Rachel.

Sam was first, which came as a surprise to no one because, well, it's Sam. Chances were that he held onto railings on the subway, got ice cream, the ice cream dripped onto his hand, and then he licked it off his hand, getting the germs from every other person who'd ridden the subway in his system.

Mercedes was next, which also came as a surprise to no one because although they denied having a relationship—_still_—they weren't fooling anyone. They kept showing up to Monday night dinners late and with rumpled clothes and messy hair. No one had to guess as how Mercedes got sick.

Blaine was next, because he was the one living with and taking care of Sam and Mercedes, then he spread it to Kurt, who spread it to Rachel, and once it had gotten that widespread in their group, it was only a matter or time before Santana and Artie got sick, too.

All of this in the span of a couple days.

"I blame Berry," Santana complained from where she was lying on the floor by the window.

"I was one of the last to get sick!" Rachel protested, curled up on an armchair.

"Stop shouting," Kurt snapped, standing at the stove and making tea.

The others were due to come for their Monday night potluck dinner anytime now, so Kurt had a couple tea kettles full of water boiling on the stove, ready to serve tea and saltines. That was the most any of them could stomach at the moment anyway.

A weak knock rang through the apartment, and Kurt made his way over to the door, sliding it open to reveal Blaine leaning against the frame, pale and sweating, eyes closed.

"Knock, knock," he said weakly, panting.

Sam and Mercedes were standing behind him, Artie next to him. Every single one of them looked like zombies.

"Come in," Kurt said, stepping aside.

They staggered in, collapsing onto various furniture and spots on the floor. Artie just rolled his way over to the side of the couch and leaned his head on the end of it, sighing. "So comfy."

Blaine headed for Kurt's bedroom, disappearing behind the curtain. Kurt almost went to follow him but the tea kettles started whistling.

"Make it stoooooop," Mercedes whined.

Kurt went back to the stove and turned it off, moving the two tea kettles to the two unoccupied burners. He got all the mugs they owned out of the cupboards and set them on the counter, dropping tea bags into each of them and then pouring water in.

"Tea's ready," he announced, not bothering to serve it.

"Give it to me," Rachel demanded. "I can't reach it." To emphasize her point, the reached her arm out and made a grabby motion with her hand.

"Get it yourself," Kurt told her, padding through the curtain into his bedroom.

Blaine had face-planted on the bed, and for a moment Kurt was scared that Blaine wasn't alive. He went over and poked Blaine in the stomach to which Blaine groaned, so at least he was still breathing. He said something, but his voice was muffled by the bed.

"Hmm?" Kurt asked, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Blaine.

Blaine turned his head to the side and said, "Fix me, I'm broken."

"You're not broken. You're sick. I made tea and there are crackers."

"I can't have it. I'm going to puke and die. I'll just vomit out all my organs and insides and there will be nothing left and I'll just be here, your empty shell corpse fiancé."

Kurt snorted. "Over dramatic, much?"

"How are you not dead like the rest of us?"

"I had the flu so much as a kid that even when I get it now it's never as bad as anyone else. My immune system is used to fighting it by now."

"Lucky asshole," Blaine said.

Kurt rubbed Blaine's back before getting up. "I'm going to go check on the others."

Blaine reached an arm out blindly, his eyes closed, trying to get Kurt back on the bed. "Noooo. Take care of me!"

"I will, I promise. I'll be right back."

"I need you more than them."

"Blaine, I won't be gone five minutes."

"You're supposed to love me more than them. I'm your fiancé."

"I do love you more. But I still love them too. I'll be right back, I swear."

Blaine groaned but didn't try to stop him again, so Kurt swept through the curtain and back into the living room.

Santana was sitting up against the wall under the window, nursing a mug of tea and her own sleeve of saltine crackers. Mercedes and Sam were laying together on the couch, a couple of mugs on the coffee table in front of them. Artie and Rachel were passing a sleeve of crackers back and forth, each of them holding a mug with one hand in their laps.

"How's everybody doing out here?" he asked.

"Awful," Artie said.

"More like fucking awful," Santana corrected. "I'm two puking sessions away from death."

"Please don't talk about vomit," Rachel groaned.

"My body feels like all the muscles have been sucked out of me," Mercedes whined.

"I think my head is gonna explode," Sam muttered.

They were all miserable. Even Rachel, despite her daily vitamin c supplements. There was only so much Kurt could do, though. And he was sick too. Not as bad as the rest of them, but he had a headache and his body felt weak and he was on the verge of throwing up at all times.

Still, he had to push through. Blaine was probably the worst off of them all, if the retching noises from the bedroom were anything to go by. Kurt went back into his room to find Blaine leaning over the side of the bed, vomiting on the floor. Kurt was quick to grab the trash can from the opposite side of the room and hand it to Blaine, rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry," Blaine wheezed before vomiting again into the trash can.

"It's okay," Kurt said. "It's fine. You keep this trash can right here, okay? You think you got it?"

Blaine nodded, still throwing up. Kurt headed into the bathroom to get a few hand towels. He wet one of them before going back into the bedroom, emptying his dirty hamper on the floor in the corner and bringing the laundry basket over to Blaine with him. He cleaned up the vomit on the floor with the towels and dumped them into the basket.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said again, dropping the trash can next to the bed and flopping onto his back.

Kurt dabbed at Blaine's mouth with the remaining clean towel he had. "Don't worry about it, baby. I know you're sick. It's okay. I'll clean it up better later."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not leaving until I've nursed you back to perfect health and that's non-negotiable," Kurt said, then turned away to cough, which made him sneeze twice. He groaned.

"You don't sound much better," Blaine pointed out.

Kurt patted Blaine's chest. "Trust me, I'm much better than you are."

"Thank god. I don't know what I'd do if you were as sick as I am right now."

"We'd probably just be collapsed in this bed together, throwing up on each other."

Blaine groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "Oooh, that's disgusting."

"I know. So it's a good thing I'm better than you."

"What are you two doing?" Rachel called from the living room, voice high and whiny.

Kurt sighed. "I'm taking care of Blaine. He's worse than all of you."

"No he's not," Rachel argued.

"He just threw up all over my floor."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Okay, he's worse," Rachel amended.

Blaine patted the bed next to him. "Come lay with me."

"Are you sure you feel better? Do you need to be close to the trash can?"

"I'm good for now," Blaine said, shaking his head.

Kurt climbed on top of the covers with him, lying on his back and nudging Blaine to guide him to roll over on his side and lay his head on Kurt's chest like they always sleep. Blaine cuddled up to him, and even through the thin cotton of Kurt's t-shirt he could feel Blaine's cheek burning against his chest.

"Blaine, you're really hot."

"Mmm, thanks, babe, but I'm not really in the mood right now."

"No, I mean your fever. Your skin feels really hot." Kurt touched a hand to the side of Blaine's face and tsked. "What's your temperature?"

"I dunno."

Blaine slid one of his legs down in between Kurt's, clutching tighter to Kurt's body and shivering. If Kurt wasn't going to be able to get a thermometer, he'd have to get someone else to do it.

"Who's the least dead out there?" he called out.

They all just groaned.

Kurt sighed. "Guys, for real. Blaine may be running a really high fever. Someone get me a thermometer."

"Get it yourself!" Santana said. "_You're _the least dead, idiot!"

"Blaine's on top of me!"

"Wanky," Santana muttered.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I'll get it," Rachel called. A moment later, Kurt heard her get up and walk into the bathroom. After a minute she came into his room and held out the thermometer to him. "Here."

"Thanks. Blaine, open up," Kurt said, tapping Blaine's chin with the thermometer.

Blaine opened his mouth, so Kurt stuck the thermometer under Blaine's tongue and tapped his chin again to get him to close his mouth. It beeped a minute later, and Kurt pulled it out, gasping at the reading. "Blaine! You're 104.6!"

"Yeah? Isn't that a radio station?"

"Oh, my god. You need to go to the hospital, Blaine."

Kurt tried to sit up, but Blaine wouldn't move. "Noooo. Don't make me. Just give me medicines."

"You need to see a doctor. That is way too high of a fever."

"No it's not. I'm fine. The mattress is just gooey. Are we sinking?"

"Oh, god."

"Should I call 911?" Rachel asked, still standing by the bed. She had an afghan wrapped around her shoulders and her nose was red and running. She wiped it on the afghan.

Kurt thought it over. "No, just get me some extra strength Tylenol from the bathroom cabinet and a glass of water. I'll try to get his fever down here before taking him to the hospital."

"Okay."

When Rachel returned with the pills and water, Kurt had to spend a full five minutes nudging Blaine to sit up enough so he wouldn't choke on it. Once he got Blaine to take the medicine, he maneuvered them under the covers, making sure Blaine was wrapped up in them tightly before joining him under the covers again.

"If this doesn't work I'm taking you to the hospital," Kurt warned him. "No amount of whining or groaning will change my mind."

"I don't wanna go," Blaine said. "Bad things happen there. People die."

"People also get saved at hospitals, Blaine."

"Nuh-uh. Only bad things. I got beat up and then I went to the hospital. You got beat up and you were in the hospital. The hospital is a mean place. I don't wanna go back there. Don't make me go back there."

Kurt's heart dropped. "Okay, honey. We won't go back there."

And they didn't have to, in the end. Kurt kept giving Blaine medicine and worked on sweating Blaine's fever out through blankets and body heat. At some point that night, his friends had all left except for the Rachel and Santana, but he didn't even notice. He was too busy brushing Blaine's hair off his sweaty forehead and singing him songs as he slept.

Kurt hated seeing Blaine in this much pain. In his sleep, Blaine had started muttering about being sorry. Kurt assumed it was Blaine apologizing for throwing up on the floor again, but then he realized Blaine was apologizing for being gay and he wasn't even conscious. He was dreaming about the day he'd come out to his parents, the way they'd rejected him completely. It broke Kurt's heart.

Blaine's fever broke the next day, though, and only a few days later he was up and running around like usual. Kurt could tell Blaine was still feeling the effects that his terrible sickness had had on him, but he was much better than he had been in Kurt's bed on Monday.

Of course, by the weekend when Blaine was feeling good as new, Kurt had fallen worse. But Blaine was attentive and sweet and took care of Kurt just as well as Kurt had taken care of him.

In sickness and in health, they were going to promise someday soon. That didn't mean they couldn't start now.


	22. Those Who Smile the Brightest

The moment Kurt knew he'd fallen in love with Blaine was the first moment they met. When Blaine turned around at the bottom of that staircase and smiled at him, Kurt just knew. His heart was beating in every part of his body and he could feel his pulse everywhere, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

Blaine Anderson had brought him to life.

So, it was no surprise that one of Kurt's favorite qualities about Blaine was his smile. Always so bright, so eager, so full of joy. There was even a special smile that Blaine gave only Kurt, the one where his eyes went soft and warm and his smile said _I love you _a thousand times over.

That smile had started waning in the months of Kurt's final semester of high school. He assumed it was just because Blaine was sad that Kurt was leaving, and it was all very bittersweet, and Kurt couldn't blame Blaine for being sad about that. Instead, Kurt tried to distract them both, focusing on glee club assignments and fashion trends and new recipes. There was always something for Kurt to do so he wouldn't have to think about leaving, and he always tried to include Blaine in that so Blaine wouldn't have to think about it either.

They stood in the kitchen one Sunday afternoon, Kurt trying a new recipe he'd watched on the cooking channel for potato soup. Blaine was to his left cutting potatoes while Kurt was going through the cabinets rounding up the rest of the ingredients.

The chopping sound slowed. Kurt looked over to Blaine, watching as the knife shook in his hand.

"I think I want to kill myself."

Kurt's heart stopped.

"Wh—what?"

Blaine took a deep breath, turning to Kurt with wide eyes, still holding the knife. "I think I want to kill myself."

Kurt took in a deep breath, trying to remain calm, and said, "Okay, um, why…why do you want to kill yourself?"

"I don't know," Blaine said, and it was so small and so sad and so _scared _that Kurt didn't know what to do.

He took a couple steps toward Blaine, easing his hand around Blaine's and slowly taking the knife from him, setting it on the cutting board. Gently, Kurt guided Blaine away from the counter, holding the sides of Blaine's face in his hands.

"You can talk to me," Kurt said, meeting Blaine's eyes. "It's okay."

"You're not mad at me?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head, heart breaking. "No, honey. I'm not mad. I just want you to talk to me so I can help you. I just want to help, that's all."

Blaine bit his lip and looked away. "I'm scared you won't love me anymore. If I tell you."

"I'll always love you, Blaine. Why wouldn't I love you anymore?"

"Because you'll realize I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"You're not trouble at all," Kurt told him, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Blaine's forehead. "And you're worth everything to me."

His words seemed to calm Blaine a bit, but not much. He wasn't shaking anymore, but tears were brimming in his eyes, one of them spilling over and splashing on his cheek. Kurt wiped it away with his thumb, kissing the place the tear had been.

"You can tell me anything," Kurt murmured, "and I'll always love you just as much."

Blaine nodded, opening his mouth, but only a choked sob came out, causing more tears to fall. Kurt slipped an arm around Blaine's waist and walked them to the living room, settling them on the couch. His family would be gone until that evening, all busy doing other things that day, so Kurt had the house to himself with Blaine.

"I don't even know where to start," Blaine said, wringing his hands in his lap.

Kurt reached a hand over and placed it over both of Blaine's, getting him to look up. "Start wherever you want to."

"Okay." Blaine took a deep breath, turning Kurt's hand up in his lap. He traced the lines of Kurt's palm with both hands, sending shivers down Kurt's spine. Then, in a voice so soft Kurt had to strain to hear him, Blaine said, "I can't remember the last time I've gone a whole day without thinking about killing myself."

After taking a moment to let that sink in, Kurt asked, "Ever?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not since before I was attacked at Sadie Hawkins, but my memory's shot because of that night so I can't be sure."

"Right," Kurt said absently, knowing the story. "Okay, do you know why you think about it? I mean, what are you thinking about or feeling before you start thinking about that?"

"It varies. Sometimes it's after I hear my parents arguing about what to do about me, since my 'phase' of liking boys doesn't seem to be wearing off. Sometimes it's in the middle of class, when the teacher is talking and I realize I have no idea what they're saying. Sometimes, like now, it just comes out of nowhere. And I never know what to do."

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Kurt asked, rubbing Blaine's knee with his free hand.

Blaine kept his gaze focused on Kurt's upturned palm in his lap, now dragging his fingers to trace the veins on Kurt's wrist. "I was afraid you'd leave me. When I first got to Dalton, I made this really great friend. His name was Gregory. We got really close, and I thought I could trust him, so I told him about this, about how I thought about killing myself. He got really weird and told me he wasn't equipped to handle me, and that I needed to get professional help. He just left me alone to deal with this. It's why I joined the Warblers. I just wanted to feel like I had friends again. So I was scared if I told you, you'd be like Gregory and leave, and I couldn't take that."

"I won't leave you, Blaine. But maybe…" Kurt paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "Maybe looking into professional help wouldn't be such a bad idea, Blaine. I mean, if it's been this long, and it's still not better…"

"I know," Blaine sighed. "I was hoping if I waited long enough, things would get better." He looked up, eyes pleading as they stared into Kurt's. "I tried so hard for you, Kurt, I swear." His voice broke, more tears falling. "I wanted to be better for you. You make me happy, you do, and I don't want you to think that this means I'm not happy with you. I just don't know how to be happy without feeling sad, too."

"Okay, alright, it's okay, Blaine. I know. It's okay. This isn't about me, it's about you, it's okay."

Kurt pulled Blaine into his arms, petting the back of Blaine's head with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. Blaine cried into his shoulder, tears soaking Kurt's shirt. He held Blaine tighter, whispering comforting words in his ear. "It's okay, Blaine. I know. You don't have to feel guilty, okay? I understand. I'm not mad at you and I don't blame you and I'm not going to leave you. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, and I'm going to do my best to help you. I'm not going anywhere."

Blaine nodded against his shoulder but kept crying, clutching onto the back of Kurt's shirt. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"Don't be. It's okay. You don't have anything to be sorry for. We're going to figure this out together. We're gonna go talk to Ms. Pillsbury tomorrow, and she'll know what to do."

"God, I can't talk to her about this," Blaine said, pulling away slightly to look at Kurt. "Can you imagine how out of her depth she'd be? I love her, but being a school counselor is way more about paperwork than actually helping the students with their problems."

"She'll know who to talk to, though. I'm sure she has resources, numbers to therapists in the area."

Blaine's eyes dropped at the word 'therapist.' "Does that make me crazy? If I need therapy?"

"No, honey. Of course not. It makes you human." Kurt paused. "You know, I went to therapy as a kid."

"You—you did?"

"Yeah. Right after my mom died. I stopped talking. Like, completely. It wasn't that I couldn't talk, I just didn't want to anymore. There was nothing more for me to say. Without my mom to sing with, using my voice felt pointless. So I stopped talking and singing and using my voice completely. Selective mutism."

"And therapy helped?" Blaine asked, tentatively meeting Kurt's eyes.

Kurt nodded. "It did. I mean, I didn't talk the first few sessions obviously, but it did help. Therapists are professionals trained to understand and help people with a whole array of problems. The woman I saw was a grief counselor, and she understood exactly what I was going through. Having someone who understood helped, and I was able to start talking again, once I knew there was someone who would hear me."

Blaine took in a shaky breath, still crying, though not as hard now. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and curled into Kurt's body. They fell back against the couch, Blaine melding himself onto Kurt's side and laying his head on Kurt's chest. Kurt let his arm fall around Blaine's shoulders, dragging his fingers up and down Blaine's arm.

"I'm scared," Blaine whispered. "What if they can't help me?"

"They can, I promise. We'll research a bunch of different therapists and find the one that seems like they'd be the best to help you."

"What will my parents say?"

"It doesn't matter, as long as they say yes. I know they haven't always been supportive of you, Blaine, but I can't imagine that they would refuse to get you help. Not with something this serious."

"I don't want anyone else to know."

"They don't have to. This will just be between you and me and your parents. No one else has to know. This is your business and no one else's, nosey glee club kids be damned."

Blaine huffed out what sounded like a laugh, turning his head to kiss Kurt's chest. "Thank you."

"I will always be here for you, Blaine. No matter what. There is nothing you could say that would make me leave you. We're going to get through this, and you're going to feel better."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," Blaine sighed.

Kurt felt Blaine's breathing get deeper and heavier, and knew that Blaine must have fallen asleep. He leaned forward just a bit to reach the remote on the coffee table, switching on the TV, putting it on mute and turning on the subtitles to let Blaine sleep in peace. The potatoes were still half cut on the counter, and ingredients were still strewn haphazardly beside the stove, and one of the cabinets was still open, but Kurt didn't care.

He turned his head to look down at Blaine, frowning even in his sleep. Kurt reached his hand up and smoothed Blaine's eyebrows, ducking his head to kiss right between them on Blaine's face.

"You're safe with me," Kurt promised, speaking in a hushed tone. "I love you."

Blaine snuggled closer to him, snoring lightly.

Kurt knew that they had a lot more to discuss. They'd have to talk to Ms. Pillsbury the next day, and research therapists, and tell Blaine's parents. There was still a lot to do, and even more to work through, but Kurt knew that they could; that Blaine could. Blaine was the strongest person Kurt had ever met, and he knew that Blaine would get through this.

But for now, Blaine needed a nap, and everything else could wait until morning.


	23. Touch

Blaine was frustrated.

When they finally got back together after the worst time of Blaine's life, he knew their relationship was different. Not in a bad way, of course. Just different. More mature, in a way. Kurt had grown up out there in New York, but Blaine had still been stuck in high school. Now that he'd joined Kurt in New York, he was still trying to find his footing, clumsily stumbling behind Kurt smooth, self-assured steps.

Their communication had gotten much better, which was great. Blaine loved that they could talk about anything and have a mature discussion about it. Of course they still had their silly fights, but they were less often, and usually resolved fairly quickly. They'd gotten better at communicating with words, but it seemed like in order to get there, they'd sacrificed their physical communication.

It used to be that they could talk solely through gestures. A hand on a lower back, a touch to a shoulder, a kiss to the temple. They'd mastered the art of silent communication, and it was one of Blaine's favorite things about them.

Now, though, it seemed like Kurt didn't ever want to touch him. At all. They still cuddled and had sex and shared kisses, but it was only in the privacy of the loft, and never in public. Kurt even shied away from kisses in front of their friends, something they'd finally stopped doing just within the past year. It seemed like as soon as they'd reached a level of comfort in sharing physical affection in front of people, it disappeared.

Like now. Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's thigh under the table, laughing at some story Sam was telling.

Kurt pulled his leg away without even blinking.

Blaine let it go. He didn't want to start a fight, not in front of all their friends at the dinner table. So he tried to push it out of his mind until most of them had gone home. It had become a sort of tradition for Blaine to stay over on Monday nights after their family dinners, so after he helped wash the dishes and put them away, he followed Kurt to the bedroom.

And that's when he chose to open the conversation.

"Why won't you touch me?"

Kurt frowned at him, folding clean laundry on the bed to put away. "What?"

"You never touch me anymore, and you definitely don't let me touch you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaine, we touch all the time."

"When's the last time you held my hand?"

"Yesterday while we watched that documentary about fast food," Kurt said, giving Blaine a challenging look.

Blaine returned the look. "What's the last time you held my hand in front of people?"

Kurt paused, then shook his head and returned to the clothes. "You're being silly. We hold hands and touch all the time."

"No we don't!" Blaine sat on the bed, picking up a pair of Kurt's boxer briefs and folding them. "I've tried to be less clingy, I really have. I moved out, we've cut back on our lunches and our time together. I've given you space, Kurt, but I'm just concerned about how much space you need."

"Where is this coming from?"

"It's coming from me. From weeks of physical distance with you."

"We have sex at least three times a week."

"That's not what I mean," Blaine sighed, rolling up a pair of socks. "You won't even let me kiss you in front of our friends, let alone put my arm around your waist on the subway. If I so much as stand too close to you, you take a step back."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know, Blaine. I don't know what you want from me. I mean, do you want me to make out with you in the middle of Central Park or something?"

Blaine put the socks back down on the bed a little too forcefully, standing up and sighing. "Forget it."

As he walked out of the room, Kurt called out to him. "Blaine! Where are you going?"

"Home. I'm just going to sleep at my apartment tonight."

Kurt pulled back the curtains and chased after him into the living room where Rachel and Santana were sitting on the couch, watching television.

"You don't have to leave," Kurt said.

Blaine could hear in his voice that he was exasperated. He shook his head, wrapping his scarf around his neck and picking up his keys. "I really do. I'll see you tomorrow." He looked at Kurt and paused. "I'd kiss you, but Rachel and Santana could see and I wouldn't want them to think we love each other or anything," he said, leaving.

He knew he was overreacting. He told himself that as he walked down the stairs, shaking his head at himself, but he couldn't help it. When Blaine had moved in, it was like they couldn't get enough of each other. They were almost always touching in some way, a constant physical connection between them.

Now Kurt treated Blaine like he had the plague.

When Blaine got out into the cool night air of January, he leaned against the side of the building, kicking at the snow that had collected on the ground against the wall.

The door to the building opened and Kurt burst out, eyes falling on Blaine.

"That was really uncalled for, what you said before you left."

"I know, but it's how I feel."

"What happened to us talking things out like mature adults?"

"Well, I tried that, but you kind of dismissed me, so."

Kurt sighed, touching Blaine's shoulder. "Come on. Go on a walk with me."

"Okay," Blaine said after a pause, falling into step beside him.

Kurt didn't reach for his hand, and Blaine knew better than to try.

They walked in silence for a while. Blaine wasn't sure where they were going, but he didn't think Kurt really had a destination in mind. He seemed more focused on watching the falling snow than watching where he was going; he almost ran into a light pole three times.

"It's not that I don't want to touch you," Kurt said finally. "I want to touch you all the time, Blaine."

"Then why don't you?"

"There's a number of reasons."

"Explain them all to me, then. Please. I'm trying to understand why my own fiancé won't let me rest my hand on his leg at dinner, under the table where no one would even see."

"I'm not as open as you with my feelings," Kurt said, turning to make eye contact with Blaine for the first time since they'd started walking. "You know that. It's very hard for me to open myself up to someone and express how I feel for them."

"But we've been together for years, Kurt. I thought we'd gotten past that."

"We have, but that doesn't make it any less difficult for me. I was never a physically affectionate person, not until I met you. When we first started dating, I caught on pretty quick to how much you liked touching. Anytime we were in the same room you had your arm around my waist or were holding my hand. And despite the fact that I wasn't used to that, I let you. Because I knew it was how you showed that you cared about me."

"So what's changed now?"

"Not much, I guess." Kurt shrugged, looking up to the snow falling. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, catching a couple flakes. "After so much time apart, with me here and you in Ohio, I got used to being alone again. I got used to the distance I kept with people and it felt familiar and comfortable for me. Rachel always asks people before she hugs them because the first time she tried to hug me I took a huge step back and she fell on her face."

Blaine cracked a smile. "I bet that was funny."

"It is now. At the time, she was offended and I was embarrassed. Look, when my mom died, physical affection kind of died out with her. My dad only gives me hugs when we've had some big heart-to-heart about something. And he hasn't kissed me on my forehead since I was, like, five. It's just not how we communicated."

"But that changed when you met me?"

"Yes, because I could see how much it meant to you."

Blaine nodded, pursing his lips. "Okay. You said there were reasons. What's another one?"

Kurt stopped walking, facing Blaine and frowning. "You and I have both been the victims of a gay bashing, Blaine." Blaine flinched, looking down at the ground, but Kurt went on. "I tried to act like it didn't bother me, like I was fearless, but I wasn't. I stand by my decision to intervene, but _god _I was terrified. When they left me in that alley I prayed, Blaine. I actually prayed and thanked a god I have never believed in that those guys left me relatively unscathed. And I just thought how lucky I was that those guys only kind of beat me up."

Lucky. Kurt considered himself lucky because he was involved in a gay bashing and didn't die or fall into a coma. He would've been lucky if that hadn't happened at all.

"It just made me rethink some things. I'd lulled myself into a sense of security here, but now I don't feel safe at all. I keep feeling like the second I reach out and let you hold my hand as we walk down the street, some ignorant jerks in a pick-up truck are gonna drive up and beat the shit out of us. And I can't live with that kind of constant fear, Blaine. I'd rather hold hands with you in the privacy and safety of our own home than never be able to hold your hand again."

He had a point, and they both knew it, and hated it. It wasn't fair. Blaine just wanted to hold his fiancé's hand as they walked down the street. They'd done it when he first moved here. Then again, they had done a lot of things when he first moved here that they hadn't done since the attack.

"I hate them," Blaine said.

Kurt nodded. "I know. I do too. But if this is what it takes to keep you safe—to keep both of us safe—I'm going to do it. I don't care if you get mad at me or frustrated with me. It's worth it to keep us safe."

"But it's not always unsafe," Blaine argued. "We can sneak a kiss every now and then, or hold hands in the daylight when there are too many people around to even notice."

Kurt sighed and shook his head, starting to walk again. "Now you're the one not listening to me."

"I'm listening, but I'm trying to come up with a compromise," Blaine said, catching up with him. "I understand where you're coming from, and I agree, but we can't let them shove us back into the closet. You and I have come too far to let them do that. Courage, remember?"

"There's a difference between courage and stupidity, Blaine. You know that."

"I do, but—"

"Why are you being so stubborn about this? You asked me to explain why I've been physically distant and I did that. Why can't you accept that and move on?"

"Because this isn't you, Kurt. This is what fear has done to you, and I know you better than this." Blaine stopped walking again and grabbed Kurt's hand. Kurt tried to pull it away, but Blaine only tightened his hold, threading their fingers together and looking at Kurt. "You are the bravest person I know, Kurt. You have always stood up to your bullies and you've continually inspired me to do the same. No one understands what you went through in that alley better than me; you know that. But I can't let you give in to the fear from it. I won't. At some point we have to stop being scared and just be ourselves."

Kurt didn't say anything. He looked away from Blaine, blowing out a long breath that looked like he was smoking in the cold of the night. He shook, bouncing nervously.

"Alright," Blaine said finally. "I'll make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"If you start letting me be more affectionate with you in front of our friends, I won't push it in public. We're safe with our friends, Kurt. There's no reason I can't kiss you on the cheek as a thank you when you pour me a glass of wine."

Kurt pursed his lips, then nodded. "Fine. Yeah, alright. I'll do that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand before letting go. Kurt visibly relaxed. "I just love you, Kurt. That's all."

Kurt looked up at him and smiled, tilting his head. "I know. I love you too."

"Come on. Let's go back to the loft. You look about two seconds away from freezing to death."

"You're gonna come back with me?"

"Yeah, I'll stay the night. I'm sorry for overreacting."

"I'm sorry for being so difficult."

"It's okay. I know this stuff doesn't come easy to you."

As they walked back, Blaine thought of Kurt's face when they were talking about Blaine moving out.

_By protecting something that is _very _precious to me. You know that, right?_

Blaine had seen it in Kurt's eyes, then. The pleading. Kurt honestly wasn't sure if Blaine knew, because talking about feelings was not something that came easily to Kurt. Blaine thought of what he'd said. _Of course I know that. Of course, always. I know. _And he did. He always had. Kurt's way of communicating affection was much more reserved than Blaine's, but he knew Kurt loved him. He saw it every time Kurt looked at him.

When they slid the door open to the loft, Rachel and Santana both looked up.

"Oh, thank god. This means you guys made up, right?" Rachel asked.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't sound so excited about it, Berry. Now we're gonna have to listen to them having make up sex."

"Yes, you are," Kurt told her, holding Blaine's hand. "Deal with it."

He started pulling Blaine towards the bedroom, but paused on the way, tugging Blaine closer and grabbing his head, kissing him soundly.

Blaine couldn't remember the last time Kurt had kissed him like this when other people were around. He smiled into it, opening his mouth and kissing deeper.

"Alright, alright, take it to the bedroom already. I can see your erections through your skin-tight pants and that's an image I'll never get out of my mind," Santana complained.

They laughed breaking apart. Kurt tugged him fully into the bedroom, pushing Blaine onto the bed and crawling on top of him.

"And congratulations, by the way!" Santana yelled. "Those are some nice packages. Lucky bastards."

"Santana!" Rachel squawked.

"What? Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I can't appreciate a nice dick."

Blaine rolled his eyes, laughing as Kurt kissed down his throat. He sat up and tugged his sweater off, then leaned down to do the same with Blaine's.

"While I appreciate the sudden change in attitude and willingness to compromise," Blaine said, letting Kurt lean forward and kiss him on the mouth again, "this isn't exactly what I meant. We don't have to become exhibitionists."

Kurt pulled away, focusing on Blaine's eyes. "This isn't about them, it's about us. I want to show you that I love you, even if I don't feel fully comfortable holding your hand in public again yet."

Blaine smiled, pulling Kurt's face back down to his. "Come here."

They kissed and kissed, taking so much time to make out that Blaine almost came in his pants without Kurt even touching it, making him feel like he was in high school all over again. When they finally got around to taking off their pants, Blaine came in the first five minutes Kurt's hand was on his dick.

"That was fast," Kurt said, smirking at Blaine.

Blaine whacked him. "Shut up. I just missed your touch, that's all."

"Mmm, well there's a lot more where that came from. But you're gonna suck me off first."

"Gladly."


	24. Failure

Failed.

Blaine had failed.

He paced back and forth in the hallway, biting his lip and digging his fingernails into his palms.

Blaine Anderson didn't fail.

He still remembered the first—and only—failing grade he'd ever received. It was in ninth grade, when he'd first come out. One of his teachers was extremely homophobic and started failing him on purpose. The first day Blaine came home with a red F at the top of his work, his dad had yelled at him for over an hour.

"What is wrong with you? Do you think your education is a joke? Do you think school doesn't matter? How could you let this happen? You're a disgrace, Blaine. Andersons don't fail. You either clean up your act or I'll put you in tutoring, and we both know you're not stupid. Get it together, Blaine. Stop distracting yourself with this stupid gay phase of yours and focus on school. This is not the time for rebellion."

After that, Blaine did his best to never fail again. He went to the teacher who was failing him after class the next day and apologized for his behavior, saying he was mistaken and that he'd actually recently found himself attracted to Lucy, a girl in his class. The teacher started giving him the grades he deserved again, and Blaine was back in his father's good graces.

Well, relatively so. As good as he was going to get.

Blaine had never made a failing grade again after that. Even when he had to miss weeks of school due to his beating at Sadie Hawkins, or his eye surgery in his junior year. He made sure to have friends bring him his work every day, and on top of that wrote extra essays for the class to earn extra credit and keep himself on his teachers' good sides.

So when Carmen Tibideaux failed him, he immediately started freaking out.

He paced the hallway, mumbling to himself, trying not to pass out.

"Blaine?" Kurt rounded the corner, pausing when he spotted Blaine. "Hey, I've been looking all over for you."

"Carmen's going to kick me out," Blaine said immediately. He stopped pacing, staring at Kurt. "She failed me and now she hates me and she's going to kick me out."

"Honey, no, she said it was a good performance and you could do it again—"

"I'm going to get kicked out and my dad is going to kill me."

"Okay, Blaine, you have to try and calm down," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine by the shoulders. "Breathe with me. Come on, yes, do it. In… Yes, good. Now out… Okay, yeah. Do it again. In… And now out… Good."

Blaine nodded, but he didn't feel any better. His stomach still felt like lead.

"I haven't failed in years, Kurt," Blaine said. "I've only ever failed once in my life. I can't fail again."

"And you won't. You'll do it again and you'll blow her away like you always do because you're a star, Blaine. Carmen knows that. She doesn't give second chances to just anybody."

Blaine turned and leaned up against the wall, sliding down to sit. "I can't believe I failed again."

All the feelings of freshman year came back to him. His father's words rang in his head.

_You're a disgrace._

_This wouldn't happen if you weren't gay._

_Andersons don't fail._

_What is wrong with you?_

Apparently, everything.

"I can't do this," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I can't. I thought I could but I can't. Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I'm not good enough."

Kurt knelt down in front of him, placing his hands on Blaine's knees, and frowning. "Blaine, it's going to be okay. This isn't even really a failing grade; she's giving you a do-over."

"But what if I fail the do-over? What if nothing I do is ever good enough? What if I just keep failing?" Blaine's breathing sped up again at the thought of it. He started muttering under his breath, "Andersons don't fail, Blaine. Andersons never fail. If you fail, you're not an Anderson. If I'm not an Anderson, then who am I?"

"Hey, come on, come here," Kurt said softly, tugging Blaine's hand. He sat down on the ground and opened his legs, ushering Blaine between them and holding him close. "You are Blaine, and you are a performer, and you are strong, and fierce, and loving, and so many other great things. This one situation means nothing about who you are as a person, Blaine."

He looked up with wide eyes. "Do you think they'll call my dad? Do you think Carmen is going to call him and tell him I failed?"

"No, honey. Of course not. That's not going to happen. You have nothing to worry about."

That made him feel a little better. He nodded, ducking his head into Kurt's chest again.

Maybe if they didn't call his dad, it'd be okay. As long as his dad never found out, this could be okay. He'd just re-do the performance, and pick something Carmen would like, and everything would be fine.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said.

Kurt shook his head, scratching his fingernails lightly along Blaine's back. "Don't be. I've met your dad, remember?"

Blaine did remember. It was the one and only time Kurt was ever in the presence of Blaine's dad.

_"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Kurt. The one I told you and Mom about at dinner last week."_

_His dad looked Kurt up and down, scoffing. "This is the one you picked? You could've at least picked someone a little more manly. This fairy is going to get you beaten all over again."_

_Blaine flinched, but Kurt didn't even blink. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Anderson."_

_His dad grumbled and stalked off._

Kurt pet Blaine's hair, speaking gently. "Blaine, I thought we were past this. We've talked about your dad, remember?"

"I know," Blaine nodded. "But that doesn't make it any easier. He shaped my life for 18 years, Kurt. I can't just get over that overnight."

Kurt sighed. "You're right. I just wish I could make this easier for you."

"I appreciate that," Blaine said.

He'd calmed down considerably at this point, settled by the feeling of being held by Kurt.

"Can we go get hot cocoa?" he asked.

Kurt laughed, the rumble of it shaking Blaine as he lay against his chest. "Of course, baby."

"With lots of whipped cream?"

"Is there any other way?"

"And cinnamon?"

"Obviously."

Blaine pulled back, giving Kurt a small smile. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Good thing you never have to find out," Kurt told him, bringing him in for a kiss.

They got up off the floor and got hot cocoa after that. By the end of the night, Blaine's freak out was completely forgotten.

Then, a few days later, Blaine did have to consider what it would be like to live without Kurt. He sat by Kurt's hospital bed, holding his hand and on the verge of tears at the sight of Kurt's broken and battered face.

He tilted his head and sang softly, _"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around."_

He knew, then, what he wanted to sing for his winter review.

Carmen Tibideaux passed him with flying colors.


	25. Nobody Said It Was Easy

_Blaine starts self-harming because of bullying at NYADA. TW: self-harm._

… … …

It wasn't that Blaine didn't think he was a good performer. He knew he was good. He had stage presence, he almost always had perfect pitch, and he was handsome. These weren't things he admitted often because he didn't want to come across as conceited, but they were things he knew intrinsically.

That's why when people started insulting him constantly at NYADA he took it so hard. It wasn't that he believed their criticism. It was the fact that he knew he was good, and yet these people hated him so much, they would make up lies just to try and make him feel bad about himself, because they hated who he was as a person.

He felt like he was in his freshman year at Westerville High, and boy did that bring up unpleasant and unwanted memories.

"Watch where you're going, fatass," some girl snapped at him in the hallway, even though he was walking right up against the wall and it was obviously her fault.

"Sorry," he said, standing against the wall until she passed.

Everyone here made him feel like he didn't belong, like he should leave, so he was always trying to make himself smaller. That way, maybe people wouldn't even notice him.

"What's up with you lately?" Kurt asked him at lunch.

Blaine focused on his salad. "What do you mean?"

"You've been more reserved and quiet. It's not like you. Is something wrong?"

"No," Blaine lied.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "Did you just lie to me?"

"I just don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Well, I do. I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," Blaine snapped, standing up from the table. He pulled a couple bills out of his wallet and dropped them next to his plate. "I'll see you later. I have to go work on a paper."

On his way out of the cafe, he heard Kurt call out to him, but he didn't turn back. He just needed time to be alone, to think. He knew Kurt meant well, but Kurt wasn't going to be the one to help him with this.

After all, Kurt thrived here. Blaine thought back to Kurt's first months in New York and how he'd already gotten an internship within the first week at . And then, he got into NYADA, and they weren't talking as much then-still trying to mend the friendship-but he was sure Kurt had an easy time then, too. Because Kurt may have had a hard time in Ohio, but he was well-loved here.

Blaine was the opposite.

When he got back to the apartment last night, he was the only one home. Sam and Mercedes had probably gone out on another one of their secret dates that they thought no one knew about. He and Kurt had more subtlety when they were having sex than Sam and Mercedes did when they went on dates.

He really did have a paper to work on, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. No doubt he'd make a D or something and someone in his class would ridicule him for it.

"D is for dumbass. Why don't you go back to the podunk town you're from in Iowa and leave show business to those of us who actually have talent?"

Blaine probably wouldn't even have the energy to correct them and say he's from Ohio.

Instead of working on anything, Blaine just went to his and Sam's room and collapsed on his bed, lying on his back and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Sam had put on the ceiling. It wasn't dark, yet, so they weren't glowing, but it was comforting all the same. He'd had them in his room as a kid and it reminded him of home, before his parents had started keeping him at a distance.

God, when would Blaine's life go right and just _stay _good? He'd finally found himself and came out of the closet only to be beaten at a school dance and alienated from his parents. He found the love of his life only to mess it all up and lose him. He got back together with the love of his life only to mess it up _again _and end up suffocating him.

He couldn't do anything right and the thought of it was giving him a headache. He reached into the top drawer on the small table between his and Sam's bed, grabbing the bottle of ibuprofen. His hand blindly landed on something cold and metallic, though. He grabbed at it and pulled out a pocket knife.

It wasn't his, so it must have been Sam's, though why he wouldn't keep it on his person instead of a drawer was beyond Blaine. He flipped open the blade and stared at it, watching the way the metal glinted in the sunlight. It looked so beautiful.

He brought the blade down to his comforter beside him and pressed it into the blanket, dragging the blade. The fabric gave way easily, the threads coming undone and opening in a perfect line. He did it again, watching the way the threads didn't even fight it. They just let it happen.

Blaine didn't really think his next action through. He was distracted-fascinated by the damage a simple wedge machine could do-and decided to try it on his own skin. He held the play vertically parallel to his wrist and pressed somewhere in the middle of light and hard and dragged the blade a few inches down his arm.

The second he saw blood, he panicked. That wasn't what he'd intended, and the sight of red against his pale inner arm jolted him back to reality and into action. He headed down the hall and into the bathroom, careful not to drip any blood on their beige carpet. There was a first aid kit under the sink for Sam, so Blaine pulled it out and bandaged his arm, cleaning it with hydrogen peroxide before wrapping it in gauze.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get this far. But he did, and he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

The warm pain radiating from the cut on his forearm made him feel better than he had in months.

... ... ...

It only snowballed from there. Blaine never thought he'd become one of these people, people who hurt themselves intentionally, and yet here he was again, using Sam's pocket knife to draw lines on his skin. He had a towel in his lap and was carving another word into his skin. After that first time a few weeks ago, he'd taken to carving the harsh words of his classmates into his skin instead of pointless lines.

_FAT_

_DUMB_

_LESS_

Long words were harder to do, Blaine had found, so instead of doing words like _WORTHLESS _or _USELESS,_ he just cut the word _LESS _into his arm, because it felt universally applicable.

Kurt knew something was up with him, Blaine could tell. Not only because he brought it up every time they were together, but because of the looks Kurt gave him. In class, Kurt would always stare at him across the room. At dinner, Kurt would watch Blaine eat. And every time Blaine said he didn't feel in the mood for sex, he could see it in Kurt's eyes that he didn't believe him.

Blaine didn't know how much longer he could keep this up and it had only been three weeks. It was difficult to hide a secret all over your body from the one person who knew your body almost as well as you knew it yourself. He couldn't keep denying Kurt sex or Kurt would think there was something wrong with him physically and not just mentally.

Thank god it was cold enough outside that Blaine could get away with wearing sweaters all the time to cover his arms.

At their Monday night dinner, Blaine sat to the left next to Kurt, holding his hand under the table. He reached over Kurt to grab the salt shaker and heard Kurt's quiet gasp before he realized his sleeve had ridden up, exposing part of the word _NOTHING _at the top his his wrist.

He quickly retracted his arm, letting go of Kurt's hand to pull the sleeve down. Kurt had the sense not to say anything at the table in front of their friends, thank god, but the look he was giving Blaine said more than actual words would.

As soon as Blaine had finished eating, Kurt stood up. "Blaine and I are going back to your apartment," he said, looking at Sam and Mercedes. "I'm sure you guys can sufficiently entertain yourselves for a couple of hours and allow Blaine and I privacy."

"Wanky," Santana said, smirking.

Kurt must have really been worried, because he didn't say anything to that. Instead, he yanked Blaine up and headed for the door. Blaine knew it was bad when Kurt slipped on Blaine's coat instead of his own and didn't even notice, so he just put on Kurt's coat.

Kurt was silent on the walk, so Blaine said, "Are you-"

"If you ask me if I'm okay right now, I swear to god, Blaine, I'm going to break down on this street in the middle of New York City and you're going to have to deal with it."

Blaine snapped his mouth shut.

They reached Blaine's apartment faster than he'd ever managed before, and Kurt stuck his hand in Blaine's coat pocket and grabbed Blaine's keys, letting himself in. Blaine followed behind, waiting for Kurt to do or say whatever it is he was going to. Blaine honestly wasn't sure what kind of reaction to expect at this point. He'd thought Kurt was just sad at the table, but now he seemed angry.

"Show me," Kurt said, turning to Blaine in the entry hall.

Blaine hesitated. "Show you-show you what?" He was hoping Kurt didn't mean the cuts, because Blaine wasn't ready for that.

"Whatever it is you've been using to hurt yourself."

"Oh."

Blaine turned and went up the stairs, knowing Kurt was following close behind. He got the knife out of the drawer and held it out to Kurt, who immediately took it and stuck it in his pants pocket.

"You're not getting this back," Kurt told him, almost challenging Blaine to argue.

"Okay," Blaine said.

Blaine's lack of a fight seemed to calm Kurt down some. He collapsed onto Blaine's bed, rubbing his hands together in his lap. Blaine stood awkwardly in between the two beds, looking around the room.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine took in a deep breath and blew it out before sitting on the bed next to Kurt. "I don't know."

"No, don't do that. You do know. Don't brush me off because you don't want to talk about it. This is serious."

"It's not a big deal-"

"You've been cutting yourself, Blaine," Kurt said. His voice broke and he looked at Blaine with tears in his eyes. "I-I can't believe I didn't notice. I mean, I knew something was wrong obviously, but how did I not think of this? How did I not _know_?"

Blaine tugged at the ends of his sleeves, pulling them down past his knuckles. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. _Talk to me."_

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me why. Why you've started doing this, why you wouldn't talk to me about it, why you felt like this was a good idea. I want to understand so I can help you, Blaine. Because I can't let you do this anymore."

"You wouldn't understand," Blaine muttered. "I could try and explain, but you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Blaine rubbed his thighs, playing with his fingers in his lap. He couldn't do this without some kind of distraction, something to keep his hands busy. He paused. "Could I... Would you give me the knife back, please?"

"Are you insane?" Kurt asked, staring at Blaine.

"Jesus, Kurt, I'm not going to slit my wrists in front of you. It just makes me calm to have it. I need something to mess with while I talk. Would you just give me the knife? I'll give it back to you."

"A knife makes you calm?"

"Yes."

"God, I wish I had figured this out sooner," Kurt sighed, getting the knife out of his pocket. He shook his head, putting it back. "No, I can't give it to you. I'm sorry."

Blaine threw his head back and closed his eyes. "Fine."

"You've been hurting yourself with it, Blaine, I'm not giving it back to you."

"I know. It's fine."

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, studying the glow-in-the-dark stars again. "You remember when Finn gave Rachel a star for Christmas, but he named it after himself? It was a nice gesture in his own Finn way, but so confusing."

"I don't want to talk about Finn right now," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine knew it was hit and miss whether bringing up Finn was a good idea, and he should've known it would've been bad at the moment. "I'm sorry."

Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's thigh and looked into his eyes, pleading. "Please stop evading the conversation. We need to talk about this."

"I know. It just isn't easy."

"You need to try, because I'm not leaving here until we talk this out."

"I guess..." Blaine started, pursing his lips. He nodded, trying to gather up the strength to talk about something he wouldn't even think about more than the ten minutes he was in it. "I guess it started with the kids at NYADA."

"NYADA? What's been happening there? I thought you were doing well in your classes."

"I am, but my classmates don't seem to think so. I get slammed every day with insults. Lots of people calling me fat, worthless, talentless, stupid, failure. It doesn't stop. It's like ninth grade all over again, except instead of bullying me for being gay, I'm being bullied for being good. And it just started wearing on me, because I know that I'm good, and they know that I'm good, and they're so mad about who I am as a person that they want to tear me to shreds. It just feels so personal, and I didn't really know how to deal with it."

Blaine paused, tugging on his sweater sleeves again. He slipped his right thumb underneath his left sleeve, brushing over the healing scabs there. "I don't know how it got to this point. One day, it just did. I came home from classes and had a headache, so I went in the drawer to grab some ibuprofen. Instead, I grabbed Sam's knife." He reached his hand to his right side, touching the slits he'd made in his mattress. "I don't know. It just happened."

Kurt nodded. "Okay. And it made you feel better?"

"Yeah, in a way." Blaine pulled his sweater sleeve up to his elbow, reading over the words he'd cut into his arm. "I was the one in control. Their words couldn't hurt me emotionally anymore, not after I made them hurt physically. It was like once I put them on my skin, they were mine. I had possession of them. I took what they were saying and, I don't know, reclaimed it in a way that made me feel better? I don't know, it makes sense in my head, but I feel like I'm not explaining it right."

Kurt gasped like he had at the table, hand hovering above Blaine's arm like he was afraid to touch. "_Blaine._" He pulled his hand back, staring at the lines. "Oh, god. Why didn't you come to me about this?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't understand. Everyone loves you here, Kurt. You never had problems. You just came here and took the city by storm, and everyone loved you."

"Are you serious?" Kurt shook his head, frowning. "No. That's not what happened at all. Everyone at NYADA _hated _me when I first started. They called me turtle face and said I wouldn't last the semester here. They snickered at me in dance class and whispered about me in acting class. Honey, _no one _fits in here at first. Performers don't like their livelihood being threatened, so when they see someone with real talent, they attack. I didn't do any better here in my first semester than it sounds like you have."

Blaine looked down at his arm, tracing over the words. "Oh."

Kurt placed his hand over Blaine's, squeezing. "Blaine, if you had just talked to me, I could have helped you. But now we have this really serious problem to deal with."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said again, because he didn't know what else to say anymore.

"I know you are, but that doesn't change anything. How long has this been going on?"

"About three weeks or so."

"Okay, so here's what I think should happen. I'm taking this knife, and I'm hiding it. We won't tell the others because it's not their business. I think you should move back in with me so I can keep a better eye on you, and that way if you have a hard day at school, I can be there when you get home to take care of you."

"Kurt, I don't need to be babysat."

"It's not babysitting. It's me taking care of my fiancé. If you found out I was cutting myself, what would you do?"

Blaine thought about it and concluded that he'd probably do the same. But that didn't make him happy about it.

"I'm not crazy," he said, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself.

"I know you're not. I never said you were."

"I don't wan't you to treat me differently."

"How could I treat you the same? I'm not going to walk on egg-shells around you, Blaine, and I won't talk to you like you're mentally ill, but I can't just ignore this. You can't ask me to."

Blaine pursed his lips. "What if you get annoyed with me again when I move in? What if I smother you and you end up hating me?"

"I could never hate you, but I think this is the best option. I won't be able to function knowing you're here alone and could be hurting yourself at any moment."

"Can't I just promise I won't do it again and we move on?"

"You know full well why we can't do that."

Blaine sighed, nodding. "I know."

The truth was, Blaine knew it would come to this. He knew that he couldn't keep it a secret forever, and that Kurt would find out, and that he'd react similarly to this. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep this new habit up, but he also didn't know if he could stop at this point.

"I'll probably end up doing it again. Cutting myself. I don't think I can just stop."

"I know it doesn't work that way, but I'm hoping that now you'll feel comfortable enough to talk to me when you feel the need to hurt yourself so we can try and find a safer alternative for you." Kurt grabbed both of Blaine's hands in his and faced him fully, meeting his eyes. "It kills me that you've been hurting yourself like this, and I can't just let it continue. You understand that, right?"

Blaine nodded. "I know."

Kurt nodded too, blowing out a deep breath. "Okay. We can worry about packing your stuff and moving you tomorrow. Let's just go back to the loft now."

"All of our friends are still there."

"We can stay here for a while, then. If you want. When Sam and Mercedes come home we can go back to the loft."

"Yeah, I think I'd rather just cuddle on the couch with you and watch mindless television."

"Okay. We can do that."

Blaine stood to leave the room, hand on the doorknob when Kurt called to him, still sitting on the bed.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are those..." Kurt bit his lip. "Are those the only cuts? Or are there more?"

Blaine inhaled, deliberating a moment before turning to Kurt and rolling up his other sleeve, too, holding out his arms. Kurt rose from the bed and came over, holding Blaine's hands and looking down at his arms. "God, what have you done to yourself?"

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"It's exactly as bad as it looks, Blaine."

Blaine wanted to argue but thought better of it. He wanted to apologize again, but thought Kurt might yell at him for it. Instead, he just pulled his arms back and tugged his sleeves down again. "Well, you have my knife now. Or, Sam's knife. He'll probably wonder where it went."

"Knowing Sam he'll just assume he lost it somewhere on the street."

"Yeah, I guess."

They went down the stairs and back to the living room, settling in on the couch and flicking on the TV. It didn't really matter what was on; neither of them would be paying much attention to the program.

"Are you mad at me?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head, dropping a kiss against Blaine's temple. "No, I'm not mad. I'm sad."

"Because I've been hurting myself?"

"That, and because you haven't been talking to me. I thought we'd gotten past that after our time apart. Our lack of communication was what broke us up, and I'm just sad that we fell back into it."

Blaine pulled away, frowning, heart in the pit of his stomach. "Are you saying we're breaking up?"

"No! Oh, god no!" Kurt's eyes widened. He scrambled to hold onto Blaine, pulling him in for an awkward, haphazard hug. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm just worried about you, and the way you shut me out. It makes me nervous, that's all. I never want to break up with you again. That's what the ring on my finger is for, that's why I said yes. We're forever, Blaine. It just worries me that you thought you couldn't talk to me."

"It's not that I didn't think I could talk to you, it's just that... I don't know. I guess it just felt like something I needed to figure out on my own."

"But you didn't figure it out," Kurt said pulling back to look at him. "This isn't the solution, Blaine. This is just adding to the problem. You see that, don't you?"

"I guess," Blaine said, shrugging. "I mean, it's been working. I feel better."

Kurt's face fell, a cloud of sadness falling into his eyes. Blaine immediately wanted to take his words back, but he knew he couldn't. The truth was out there and he couldn't take it back.

"Blaine..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you, though?"

"...Yes."

"Oh, Blaine."

"I'm sorry."

"Please stop saying that."

"Okay." Blaine paused, picking at a loose thread in the couch. "I just don't know what else to say."

"I know. You don't have to feel like you need to say anything else."

"You're mad at me now," Blaine said.

Kurt shook his head, bringing Blaine in and kissing him on the forehead. "Not mad, I promise."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm..." Kurt trailed off. He scooted away from Blaine and leaned his back up against the armrest at the end of the couch, opening his legs and patting the spot between them. Blaine crawled over and situated himself between Kurt's legs, laying his back against Kurt's chest. Kurt wrapped his arms around the top of Blaine's chest and leaned his head down to rest on top of Blaine's. "I hurt for you. My heart aches for you, and the way you must feel to have resorted to that. I have so much love for you that it hurts me to see you in pain. That's all."

Blaine didn't really know what to say. He felt like he'd disappointed Kurt, and he never wanted to hurt him. Blaine just wanted to _stop _hurting. He brought Kurt's arms to his mouth and peppered them with kisses. "I love you."

"And I love you. We'll get through this. I'm going to help you get through this, and I'm not going to give up, even if it gets hard. Okay?"

"Okay."

They lay like that on the couch for a couple of hours. At some point, Kurt dozed off. Blaine felt his breathing even out underneath him and heard the soft snores that Kurt insisted he didn't do. Blaine craned his neck to look up at Kurt, smiling at his sleeping face leaned against the back of the couch. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Kurt's jaw.

He wasn't better now. He knew it wasn't going to be easy to stop hurting himself. But looking up at Kurt's sleeping face, feeling the secure hold Kurt kept him in even as he slept, Blaine knew he had a reason to try.


	26. The Rabbit Hole of Despair

_In the bulimic Blaine verse, Blaine starts self-harming when he can't throw up. TW: bulimia, self-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts._

… … …

After some discussion, Kurt and Blaine decided that his stomach flu didn't count against him in his recovery. The throwing up he'd done in those three days were torturous and involuntary on Blaine's part, and Kurt wouldn't hold him accountable for it.

Still, Blaine couldn't help but feel...tempted.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get better. He did. That's why he'd worked so hard at recovering and had made it to 100 days, and then 101 and now 113. But he'd be lying if he said the two weeks after his flu had worn off weren't the hardest of his recovery thus far. Every night, he dreamed of throwing up. Not nightmares anymore. Dreams.

He dreamed of being thin, of throwing up his dad's hateful words and his mother's condescending tone and the sneering looks and demeaning insults of his classmates. It all went down the toilet, and he stood up, and he admired the way he could see his collar bones, and he had the normal V-shaped torso that all attractive men had.

He didn't feel safe in his own body anymore. He wore bulkier sweaters and loose-fitting pants to disguise the actual size of his body.

He was ashamed.

But he couldn't let himself give in to the awful thoughts that circled his mind because that would mean disappointing Kurt and Santana, both of which had tried so hard to help him get better. If Blaine couldn't let himself give in, though, he knew it'd just get worse. He needed to find another outlet to keep him sane.

Day 114 of no voluntary purging was bad for Blaine. All of his days recently were bad, but this one felt worse. As he walked down the hall, a sophomore boy hip-checked him, shoving him into the hard concrete wall.

"God, I thought you'd lost weight. How do you still take up so much room?" he sneered, walking off.

Blaine sighed, pushing away from the wall and continuing on to class. This was nothing new, unfortunately, and he tried his best to keep his chin up.

Except another girl bumped shoulders with him, gasping like it was his fault. "What's your problem? Didn't Ms. July tell you to lose weight? She didn't mean a couple pounds, loser. She meant, like, thirty. You'll never make it at this school looking like that."

Blaine looked down at himself, fighting the tears that threatened his eyes. "I look fine," he said.

"As if," the girl rolled her eyes. "You know, I heard through the grapevine you've been throwing up. Maybe you should try harder with that."

"I-I have not," he said, but his mind was racing, thinking of who would have told and how anyone but Kurt and Santana would've found out. Blaine knew neither of them would say anything, and yet here this girl was, taunting his biggest secret in front of him.

"Please. You're a terrible liar, too. I sure hope you can sing because the acting and dancing is dead for you."

With that, she walked off down the hall, high ponytail swaying behind her.

Blaine was paralyzed, rooted to the spot. There was no way he could go to class now, no possible way. If that girl knew, there was no telling who else knew. How could he go in and face everybody knowing his most shameful secret?

No. Blaine shook his head, tears in his eyes, and ran to the nearest restroom. A guy was washing his hands at the sink but didn't even look up as Blaine headed straight for the stall, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He heard the restroom door open and close and knew the guy had left. He stuck two fingers in his mouth, but stopped before they could reach the back of his throat.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't ruin his recovery. He'd been doing so well; if he ruined all that now, he'd be the failure everyone said he was.

Blaine sighed, falling back on his heels. He rolled to the side and sat on the ground, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall. God, he hated being this person. He never in a million years imagined being this person. This person who sat on the bathroom floor after trying to purge and cried like a baby.

In that moment, on the floor of the restroom stall at NYADA, Blaine really and truly hated himself for the first time in his life.

Blaine checked his phone some time later to see that forty minutes had passed, and he had a text from Kurt saying he'd be home late because he had to work on a scene for his intermediate acting class but Blaine was welcome to go over anyway and wait until Kurt got home, since he still had his key.

There was nothing else for Blaine to do. He'd basically missed his entire class, which was his last class of the day, so now all he had left was to go wait for Kurt to get home at the loft. He brushed off his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror on his way out of the bathroom.

The whole walk home he wished he hadn't.

When he got to the loft, he let himself in, throwing his messenger back by the door and dropping his keys on the table. It didn't sound like anyone was home.

He couldn't help it. He wandered into the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror.

He instantly regretted it. Again. God, the sight of himself repulsed him, but he couldn't stop looking. He knew what was under the bulky sweater he wore, and the pants that were two sizes too big for him. Fat. Nothing but disgusting, revolting fat. Blaine honestly didn't know what Kurt saw in him.

Recovery had done nothing but make Blaine fat and he wanted nothing more than to change that, but he felt such a sense of obligation to Kurt and Santana to be better than this. The warring desires in his mind were driving him crazy. Blaine opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, trying to distract himself from looking at his reflection. Tampons, toothpaste, razor blades, flu medicine-

Razor blades.

Blaine plucked one from the shelf, holding it between his fingers. He never thought he'd resort to something like this, but it seemed like his only option now. It was either throwing up or using the razor blade, and Blaine knew how Kurt would react about the throwing up, but he could feign innocence about the razor blade.

Before thinking about it too much, Blaine lifted up his sweater and stared down at his soft and rounded belly. He pressed the blade against the offending skin and dragged it across, just above his belly button. Blood rose to the line, forming little bubbles along the surface. Blaine watched in fascination as they grew bigger and then ran down his stomach, seeping into the waistband of his pants. He touched the blade to the skin below his belly button and drew another line, watching as it did the same. Blood from the top line ran into the blood from the second line and they joined forces, crying into his pants.

The pain was a small price to pay for the euphoria Blaine felt as he drew lines in his skin and watched them paint his skin in bright red hues. As he pulled the blade across his skin over and over, he felt like he was letting all of the negativity out. All the fat that he hated about himself was seeping out of his stomach and Blaine finally felt free.

There was a gasp behind him, and Blaine looked up to see Santana standing in the doorway.

"God damnit, Blaine," she hissed, walking towards him and taking the blade from his bloody hands. "What did you do?"

"I..." Blaine trailed off, realizing he didn't have an explanation for the situation. "I didn't know anyone was home."

"And that's your excuse? I was taking a nap. Jesus, Blaine, why would you think this was okay?"

Blaine paused, hands shaking as he touched them to the blood on his stomach. "It's better than throwing up, isn't it?"

Santana's face fell. "Is that what this was? You couldn't throw up, so you cut yourself?"

"Kind of," Blaine answered, shrugging. There was no use in lying; not when Santana was kneeling down and staring at his lower abdomen.

"Don't move. I'm going to clean this up."

She got the first aid kit that leaned against the bottom of the sink and set it on top, opening it up and grabbing gauze pads soaked in hydrogen peroxide. Blaine's stomach jumped as she rubbed the gauze lightly over his cuts.

"It stings."

"I know, but I'm not going to risk you getting an infection. Kurt would kill me."

"Kurt's going to be too mad at me to care about what you did," Blaine muttered, watching Santana work.

Even after she wiped all the blood away, more came rushing to the surface. She got dry gauze pads and unfolded them over the cuts, taping them down across the expanse of Blaine's stomach that he'd cut into. When she was finished, she stood up straight and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Go change your pants and your underwear and give them to me so I can scrub the blood out before Kurt gets home. I don't want him having to see it. Then you and I are going to sit on the couch and wait for him to get home and you're going to tell him everything."

"This feels like the night you found me puking all over again," Blaine groaned.

"Maybe you should stop hurting yourself and we wouldn't have to keep doing this, then."

"I can't help it," Blaine said quietly. "I hate myself."

Saying it out loud made it so much more real. Blaine felt the weight of his words fall on his shoulders; he saw the shift in Santana's face, too.

"We're just going to have to work on that, then. Go change."

Blaine did as she said, changing out of his bloody clothes and slipping on clean underwear and sweatpants. He handed the dirty clothes to her wordlessly on his way to the living room. He felt the bandages underneath his sweater fold strangely as he sat down, but knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Santana joined him ten minutes later, hooking her arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. The intimate gesture said all she had to say, and Blaine heard her loud and clear.

When Kurt came home a couple hours later, he frowned at the sight. "Did I miss something?"

Santana sat up and looked at Blaine expectantly. "I don't know. Blaine, what did Kurt miss this afternoon?"

Blaine looked back and forth between them before standing up and offering Kurt a small smile. "You just got in, why don't you set your stuff down first?"

Kurt shied away when Blaine made to grab for the bag on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing even further. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?"

"I want to hear about your day first," Blaine insisted. "How did rehearsing with your scene partner go?"

"It was fine, Blaine, it doesn't matter. What is going on? Did you...did you throw up? Because it's okay if you did, but you need to tell me."

Blaine looked down. "No, I...I didn't throw up."

"Okay, so what happened? Why are you two acting so weird?"

Blaine hesitated. He didn't even know where to start, how to phrase it, how to break it to Kurt without Kurt having a full meltdown over it. It wasn't really that big of a deal, honestly. It was a mistake and it was over and now Blaine was done with it. He couldn't deny that it made him feel better, but now that he'd been found out so quickly there was no way he could continue on.

"Blaine," Santana said softly, coming to stand behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have to tell him or I will."

"Tell me what?" Kurt demanded.

"I was having a bad day," Blaine started, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. "Like, a really bad day. It's...it's been hard, since I had the flu, for me to not...not throw up. On purpose. But I've been strong because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me, or Santana, and I wanted to be good. I tried really hard, Kurt, but today was just...harder. I almost did it, but I stopped myself, and ended up here to wait for you to come home so I could talk to you about it. I went into the bathroom and was staring at myself for a while until I just...needed to distract myself. So I opened the medicine cabinet and, uh... I found a razor blade."

"Oh, my god," Kurt gasped. His eyes flicked down to Blaine's arms. "Did you- Is it bad? Can I see?"

Blaine hugged his arms around his middle and dropped Kurt's gaze. "It wasn't my arms. It was my stomach."

Kurt's eyes flicked back and forth between Blaine and Santana. "How bad is it?"

"It's not bad," Santana answered. "They weren't deep enough to need stitches or anything. I already threw the razor blades away."

"Oh, god, Blaine." Kurt threw his arms around Blaine, catching him off guard.

Blaine stumbled back a step before bringing his arms around Kurt's waist. Once the shock of the hug wore off, Blaine held Kurt tightly, shutting his eyes and letting a few tears fall. "I didn't know what else to do. I feel like I'm going crazy, Kurt."

"It's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out."

"Tell him what you told me, Blaine," Santana said from behind him.

Blaine pulled away, looking at his shoes. "I can't."

"You have to. It's important."

"What did you say to her?" Kurt asked. He gripped Blaine's bicep loosely and tried to meet Blaine's eyes. "Blaine?"

"I said I...I hate myself."

"_Blaine,_" Kurt breathed. "No, honey-"

"I think we need to get someone else involved here, Kurt," Santana said. "A professional. I think we've tried, but there's obviously a lot more going on in this head that we don't know." She placed a hand on the back of Blaine's neck. "Stuff that he won't tell us."

"I'm right here," Blaine pointed out.

"Are you willing to tell us everything you're thinking then?"

Blaine fell silent.

"Didn't think so."

"Santana's right, Blaine. This is obviously...so much deeper, than she and I had hoped. I can't let you fall even more into this. I need you to consider getting professional help."

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. It wasn't that he hadn't considered it before. Of course he had, he was going fucking crazy with how much he hated himself. He felt lost in a rabbit hole of despair and he didn't know how to get out. But hearing Kurt suggesting it, hearing it really cemented out loud by someone else, made Blaine feel even worse.

"Fine."

Kurt's eyebrows raised like he'd been expecting a fight. "Fine? You'll do it?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Call whoever you want." He turned away from them, heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Santana asked.

"I just need to go for a walk. Clear my head."

"You're not going alone."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at her. "What, so now I'm never allowed to be alone? Am I on suicide watch now?"

Kurt flinched at the word 'suicide.' He frowned, reaching out a hand to Blaine. "Do you need to be?"

"_No,"_ Blaine insisted, pulling his hand away.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we all go to the diner? Berry's working, so we can sit in her section and mess with her," Santana said.

"I'm not going to go make Rachel's shift hell just for fun," Blaine argued. "People at school make my day hell all the time just for fun. I'm not going to do it to someone else."

"We can just go eat, then." Kurt suggested. "Have you eaten today?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have eaten today. Do you want an itemized list?"

Kurt said "No" and the same time Santana said "Yes."

"Look, I'm leaving. If you guys want to come with me then fine."

Blaine grabbed his keys and his bag and headed out the door. He heard Kurt's and Santana's footsteps behind him but didn't look back. Once they'd made it outside, Kurt looped his arm around Blaine's as they walked, heading down the street towards the diner.

Rachel looked frazzled as she seated them, saying it was going to be a long night and it was busier than ever and they'd have to be patient. It seemed strange to Blaine that if it was so busy, they hadn't called in him or Santana or Kurt, but he was just glad not to have to deal with it.

They ordered sodas and mozzarella stick appetizers; Kurt and Santana insisted that Blaine eat three of them. He felt each greasy, fatty bite in every inch of his body but didn't say anything. The cuts, still burning dully on his stomach, helped give him strength to keep eating, even as he hated himself with every clench of his jaw.

And that was only the appetizer.

By the time they'd ordered entrees (Kurt and Rachel outright refused him the option of ordering a salad) Blaine felt like dying. Not tangibly. He knew he'd never attempt anything; but if a car were to run into the diner window and kill him and only him at that moment, he wouldn't have been upset about it.

The realization hit him harder than he thought it would.

"Okay," he said, poking at the french fries on his plate.

Santana looked up across from him, frowning. "Okay what?"

"I'll see someone. I'll...I'll get professional help."

Kurt placed a hand on his thigh next to him and said, "That's good. I'm glad."

"Didn't you already agree to it at the loft?" Santana asked.

"I know, I'm just saying it again," Blaine huffed. "I've been thinking about it and I'm just-I'm just agreeing. Again. I think that me seeing someone professionally is for the best."

"What changed? I mean, from the loft to here. You seem more open to it now. What changed for you?" Kurt asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Blaine mumbled, twirling a french fry around with his fingers. "But I'll talk to whoever you want me to talk to. Okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said. He patted Blaine's leg. "Okay."

Santana nodded but didn't say anything.

Blaine dropped the french fry back on his plate and stared at it.

"Eat, Blaine," Santana told him.

He huffed and picked the french fry back up, popping it into his mouth. "Happy?"

"Very."

Blaine looked to his side at Kurt, who was staring at him with sad eyes. Kurt's hand squeezed Blaine's thigh as he leaned in and whispered quietly, "I just wish you were."

Blaine turned away and picked up another french fry, frowning to himself.

_Me too._


	27. Unravel My Latest Mistake

_Summary: Sequel to____Those Who Smile the Brightest. Blaine tries a bunch of different therapists and nothing works. One night, he decides he needs to end his life because nothing will help him._

_TW: Suicide attempt/suicidal thoughts, depression_

… … …

First was Dr. Roberta James. She was actually a child psychologist, so Blaine was forced to sit on a big, spongy couch surrounded by toys, and admit quietly, "I want to kill myself." Dr. James tried her best, Blaine supposed, but he just couldn't feel comfortable in that children's office. Plus, he was pretty sure the blanket hanging over the back of the couch had given him lice.

Then, Blaine convinced his parents to find an adult psychologist, so he ended up with Logan Deats. Logan was cool, but he was one of those therapists that stayed silent to make you do all the talking until you worked your way through your own problems. This was a problem in itself because if Blaine knew how to get through his issues on his own, he wouldn't be in therapy, so Logan's method was actually wildly unhelpful.

The next therapist Blaine tried was nice. Her name was Lisa McHannan, and she had drawings from her young children hung up on her walls. She was the perfect balance of letting Blaine talk and sharing her own advice and anecdotes to make him feel comfortable and understood. About a month into his weekly therapy with her, though, her husband got a job in Chicago, so she left Blaine alone again. Just when he was starting to feel like he was getting somewhere, all of his progress was shattered. And on top of everything else, now he had abandonment issues.

His last attempt was Whitney Franklin. Whitney smiled a lot. She was young and relatively new to therapy, this being her third month in practice. Blaine liked Whitney, despite her inexperience, and tried hard with her. After his first three therapist fails, his parents were getting annoyed and Kurt was getting worried-well, more so than before.

So Blaine opened up with Whitney and tried his best to explain what he was feeling.

"I want to kill myself," he told her.

She nodded. "Okay. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what is it that makes you not want to live anymore?"

Rephrasing the question didn't change his answer. "I don't know."

"What kind of things upset you in your life? What happens to prompt these thoughts in your head, do you think?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it's something like my parents fighting."

"And what do they fight about?"

"Me. My grades, my future, my boyfriend."

"They don't approve of your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they're homophobic?" Blaine snapped, growing frustrated. "I don't know."

It went on like that for a while-a tedious back and forth-until Blaine finally just sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why these thoughts are in my head and I don't know how to make them stop. Isn't that your job? Aren't you supposed to help me figure out the cause and find a solution?"

Whitney leaned forward in her armchair and placed a hand on his knee. "I can't help you until you let me inside your mind, Blaine. I can't help you find a solution if you don't help me understand the problem. Does that make sense?"

Blaine nodded. It made sense, sure, but how could he get her to see that even _he _didn't understand the problem? And if he couldn't understand, how could he help her to? He was hoping she'd be able to figure it all out.

So, therapy was useless for Blaine. He kept going for Kurt's sake, but it didn't help at all. Instead, he came to terms with the fact that he was beyond saving. If four different therapists couldn't help him, maybe no one could.

That's how Blaine found himself on the floor of his bedroom at 2am, a gun on the carpet in front of him and a bottle of his dad's whiskey in his hand. He'd had a few sips at this point and was feeling warm, but not warm enough. He took a big swig, grimacing as he set the bottle back down beside him.

"God, how does anyone drink this stuff?" he muttered to himself. The gun was black and sleek in front of him; he reached out a hand and touched the metal. "So cold." His dad had kept it in a lock box on the top shelf of their closet in the master bedroom, but it wasn't hard for Blaine to sneak in and crack the code-Cooper's birth year. The liquor cabinet was in the dining room and didn't have a lock at all.

"Wish Kurt was here," Blaine said. "Kurt would make me feel better."

Blaine pulled up Kurt in his contact list and looked at the picture of them, tears springing to his eyes. "Wish I could be better for you, Kurt." He grabbed the whiskey bottle and took another big gulp, blindly pawing at his phone to lock it.

The gun lay in front of him, taunting him. It offered him a way out, a way to stop being such a burden to everyone. Because that's what he was, right? A burden to everyone. His parents were paying several different therapists to try and fix him, and Kurt was focusing so much on making Blaine feel good that his grades had started slipping even in the last few weeks of school, just before graduation. Now Kurt was talking about not even going to New York.

He'd been rejected from NYADA and didn't even mention it to Blaine. The only reason Blaine knew was because Rachel texted him about it to make sure Blaine would take care of Kurt and make him feel better. It ended up being the opposite, with Kurt coming over that day after school and not even mentioning his rejection, instead fussing over Blaine and asking him how he felt and if he was okay that day.

The gun was the answer to all that. He picked up the loaded gun, feeling its heavy weight in his hand before laying it gently back down, facing the wall. It seemed to be talking to him, trying to lure him in.

He kicked at the gun, frowning. "Stupid gun."

Blaine groaned, holding onto the neck of the whiskey bottle in his lap and leaning over it. "Why is this happening to me?" He started crying, tears dripping on his jeans. The alcohol in his system made him cry more freely, more deeply, and he let out sobs that he'd never allowed himself to experience before.

The anguish he'd held in was coming undone and he didn't know what to do with this new level of pain.

"God, I just need it all to end," he groaned, picking up the gun.

A voice was talking frantically from somewhere far away. He looked around, frowning. His parents were gone-he had the house to himself-so it wouldn't be the television. The voice almost sounded like Kurt's, only tinny and distant.

Blaine opened his ears and turned his head side to side, trying to identify the location of the sound. He leaned towards the ground until his ear led him to his phone. He picked it up with his free hand and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

_"Blaine, oh my god, don't do anything. I'm already on my way over there. Don't do anything, baby, I'm going to be there soon and I can help you."_

"Kurt?"

_"Yes, it's me, it's Kurt. I'll be there soon. Have you done anything? Taken pills or something?"_

"No," Blaine answered, looking at the gun in his hand. "When did you call me?"

_"You called me, Blaine."_

Blaine frowned, thinking, trying to remember when he would've called Kurt. It must've been when he thought he was locking his phone but was more focused on the whiskey.

The whiskey. Blaine perked up and cradled the phone between his cheek and his shoulder to free up his hand and grab the bottle, taking another big gulp. He blew out a breath as he set the bottle back down. "This stuff is disgusting. How does anyone just sit around drinking it? God, it's like drinking rubbing alcohol and gasoline."

_"What are you drinking, Blaine?"_

"My dad's whiskey."

_"Oh, Blaine. Okay, please stop. Just-just set the bottle aside. Don't drink anymore."_

"But I need it."

_"You don't need it. You'll be okay with out it, I promise. I'm only a couple minutes from your house, okay?"_

"Yeah, okay." Blaine swirled the bottle around. "There's not a lot left. My dad's gonna know I drank it and he's gonna be mad, Kurt. My dad's gonna kill me. He-he's gonna be so mad. He'll probably kick me out for real this time."

_"He's not going to kick you out. It'll be okay."_

"He kicked me out one time. Did I tell you about that? I told him I was gay and he kicked me out. He told me to get out of the house. He said he didn't care where I went, but I wasn't welcome there anymore. So I slept on some mats at the gym at my old school, the one before Dalton. My mom made him let me come home after a few days but she didn't like me either, I could tell."

_"You never told me that," _Kurt said quietly.

"Mmhmm. It happened, it did. My parents hate me."

_"They don't hate you, Blaine. They just...they're just not very good people. But they love you, I promise they do. They wouldn't be trying to help you if they didn't love you. You're their son."_

Blaine snorted. "Great, so they love me out of obligation. Just what every child wants to hear."

_"I'm pulling into your driveway. Is the door unlocked?"_

"I dunno. There's a spare key under the mat."

_"Okay, I'm on my way inside now."_

Blaine sat on the floor and waited. He heard a key in the lock, and then the door opening, and then footsteps on the stairs. His head felt heavy on his shoulders, making the world a little unstable. He swayed from side to side, humming to himself under his breath.

When Kurt opened the door, he gasped. Blaine looked up at him. "Hey, you made it!"

"Yeah, babe, I'm here," Kurt said softly. He knelt on the floor in front of Blaine and reached his hands out gently. "Hey, Blaine, do you think I could see that for a second?" he asked, gesturing to the gun.

Blaine frowned and pulled it away. "No, it's mine. You can't have it."

"I know, I just want to see it. May I?"

"I'm not stupid, Kurt. I know what you're doing. You can't take it away from me. I need it."

"What do you need it for, Blaine?"

"To kill myself, obviously," Blaine scoffed, rolling his eyes. "God, so smart and so stupid."

Kurt's breath hitched. "Blaine, please don't do this. We've worked so hard-"

"No, _I've _worked hard while you've just pushed me over and over again. None of it's worked, Kurt. None of the therapists you shoved me into seeing have done anything for me."

"So we'll just find another one-"

"For what? What's the point anymore?" Blaine paused, setting the gun in his lap and unscrewing the cap on the whiskey to take a drink. "What's the point of anything anymore?"

Before Blaine could stop him, Kurt had reached forward and snatched the gun out of his lap. He stood up and took several steps back, holding the gun in the air away from Blaine.

"You're not getting this back."

Blaine frowned, standing up. He swayed on his feet and almost fell back down, but let his hand fall on the mattress to balance him. "You-you give that back! That's mine!"

"No it's not. Where did you find this?"

"In my parents' closet."

Kurt opened Blaine's door and disappeared. Blaine frowned, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Stupid Kurt. Shouldn't have wished him here. Ruining everything. You can't save someone who can't be saved, Kurt. Dumb Kurt." He tried to take another sip of whiskey but the bottle slipped out of his hand, spilling onto the carpet.

Blaine bent to pick it up, touching his foot to the wet spot on his carpet. "Damn it. Fuck everything up, Blaine, you always fuck up everything. Gotta-gotta just fuck up everything, and fucking fuck..." he trailed off, sitting back up on the bed. He started to feel dizzy so he let himself fall to to the side.

Kurt reappeared without the gun.

"Where'd you put it?" Blaine asked.

"I'm not going to tell you, Blaine."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

Blaine sighed, chewing his bottom lip, crying again. "Why not?"

Kurt was over to him immediately, getting Blaine to lift his head up just long enough for him to sit down and pull Blaine's head into his lap. "Because I love you too much to lose you," Kurt told him, voice shaky with tears. "And I can't let you do this to yourself."

"I can't keep living like this," Blaine sobbed, tears soaking Kurt's pajama pants. "This isn't even living, Kurt."

"I know, I know." Kurt rubbed a hand over Blaine's back and laid the other one gently on Blaine's head. "It'll be okay, I promise. We are going to figure this out, Blaine, but I need you to keep trying, okay? You can't just give up like this. I need you to be strong and keep fighting, because I promise you there is a light at the end of this tunnel. I _promise _there is."

Blaine sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "It's hard."

"I know it's hard, baby, but it'll be worth it. Don't you want to grow up and get out of here? Move away and prove your parents wrong? Become a big star and get married and have kids?"

Blaine thought about it before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." He rolled over onto his back and looked up at Kurt, reaching a hand up to touch his face. "I wanna live with you. Always. I just want us to always be together."

"And we can have that, Blaine. We can be together forever. But you have to stick around for it. Okay?"

"Okay," Blaine agreed.

"Okay. It's almost three, how about we go to sleep? We can talk more about this in the morning, when you're sober."

Blaine sat up, frowning. "It's almost three?" Kurt nodded. "How'd you even get my call?"

"I leave my phone on loud every night for this reason, Blaine. If I had missed your call tonight and you had kept that gun... I don't know what would've happened. This, right now, this is why I keep my phone on loud at night."

"I'm sorry to do that to you. Make you paranoid like that."

"Not paranoid, just concerned. And ready. I'm going to do everything in my power to see you through this and make sure you get better again." Kurt cradled the back of Blaine's neck and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Let's get in bed."

Blaine crawled back up to the head of the bed, fighting to get the covers down. Kurt came and helped him pull them down, straightening them over Blaine before sliding in beside him. Blaine immediately curled up to him, wrapping all of his limbs around Kurt's body and burying his head in Kurt's chest.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

"I know, honey. I know. It's going to be okay. No more alcohol and no more guns though. I'm going to have to tell your parents about this so they can keep those things away from you better."

Blaine groaned. He knew in the back of his mind that Kurt was going to tell his parents, but he'd been hoping he wouldn't. "Yeah."

"I just need to keep you safe, Blaine. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Blaine wanted to say that Kurt would be better without him, but he kept it to himself. He was suddenly exhausted and didn't have any energy left to keep his eyes open, much less talk. So he snuggled closer and reveled in the beautiful sensation of Kurt's fingernails trailing lightly across his back under his shirt.

"I love you," Kurt whispered, kissing the top of Blaine's head.

Blaine hummed in response and let the alcohol draw him into a deep sleep.


	28. Truth

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #749: Whenever Klaine argue, Kurt knows that all it takes is mentioning the cheating incident for Blaine to back down. Little did he know that Blaine was already taking antidepressants and his mental state was only deteriorating with every argument._

… … …

Fights made Kurt uncomfortable. He knew that they were a sign of a healthy relationship, but they also unnerved him. Where was the line drawn between a healthy fight and an unhealthy one? If he and Blaine fought over who didn't put the leftovers away, was that healthy or unhealthy? What about when he and Blaine fought about who had control of the remote in the evenings? Or the fights over whether Blaine would stay the night or not?

All these seemingly normal fights made Kurt anxious every time. He never wanted things to get too heated between them because what if the next fight was their last? What if Blaine broke up with him over something as stupid as what type of cookies they made that night?

So, Kurt always resorted to the one thing he knew would make Blaine back down. It was a quick and dirty way to end a fight-emphasis on dirty. Kurt wasn't proud of it. He didn't like to fight dirty; as a kid, his dad always taught him to play fair.

This was not fair. And he knew it. But he'd rather stop the fight completely, even if it meant sinking to a level he hated.

"Look, this is ridiculous, we're fighting over nothing," Kurt sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat on the couch.

Blaine kept pacing in front of the coffee table. "Over nothing? What, so you're saying I'm being irrational?"

"Okay, now you're putting words in my mouth."

"It's what you meant!"

"Why are we even fighting over this? Go out with your friends! I don't care!"

"That's _why _we're fighting. I feel like you don't _care _anymore."

"If you don't want to go out with your friends, you don't have to!" Kurt shouted, lifting up his hands in frustration. "I don't know what you want from me!"

"I want you to care, Kurt. I want some kind of indication that you want me to spend time with you."

"I do, but I'm not going to keep you from going out with your friends. I thought that's what you wanted. You asked me if we could move date night from Saturday to Sunday this weekend so you could go out with your friends tomorrow, so I said yes, that's fine. I was trying to be supportive of you making friends here. How am I in trouble for this?"

"I feel like we're drifting apart! I moved out because you needed space, but now we don't spend _any _time together and you seem perfectly fine with it!"

"We're spending time together right now, Blaine, but we're _fighting _because you are acting _crazy."_

"I am _not_ crazy for this," Blaine snapped, finally standing still and looking at Kurt. He had a look in his eyes that Kurt couldn't quite place. "You do _not _get to call me crazy, not this time."

Kurt took in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly to try and calm down. "If you want to spend time with me, all you have to do is say so. You don't have to go into this elaborate trick question situation."

"It's not just about us spending time together, Kurt. It's about you _wanting _us to spend time together."

"I do!"

"You have a funny way of showing it!"

Kurt knew that this fight was going nowhere and he just wanted it to stop. So he sank. "Why don't you go do what you did the last time we didn't spend enough time together and sleep with someone else? Maybe that'll put things in perspective for you."

Blaine's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. He looked like Kurt had just slapped him, and Kurt immediately regretted saying it. He regretted it every time, but this time was different. He could see on Blaine's face that this was different than the other times.

"I'm sorry," Kurt tried. He stood up and took a few steps toward Blaine, but Blaine took a few steps back.

"Don't," Blaine said quietly. He turned away from Kurt, leaning over to place his hands on his knees.

Kurt hesitated before approaching Blaine slowly, placing his hand on Blaine's back.

Blaine shot up and gave Kurt a look. "I said _don't."_

"Blaine, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry-"

"Of course you meant it! You always do!" Blaine argued, walking towards the kitchen. He grabbed a mug down from the cabinet and then paused, leaning his hands on the edge of the counter and shutting his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Kurt watched, shifting his weight from foot to foot and debating what to do. He could tell he'd fucked up _badly _this time, but he didn't know how to fix it.

Blaine grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water, setting up the coffee to brew. Once the coffee was set up, he turned to Kurt. "Why do you always bring that up?"

Kurt opened his mouth to explain but found that nothing he had to say would be good enough, so he closed it again.

Blaine took it as a sign to continue. "You know how much that messed me up. You know how much I regret doing that-how much I regret cheating on you _every single day. _It-it _kills _me that I did that to you, and you know that, so why do you keep bringing it up?"

"I'm sorry," Kurt muttered.

"I'm not asking for an apology. I'm asking for an answer."

"I don't have one. Not a good one, at least."

"Then give me a bad one," Blaine said.

The coffee pot sputtered behind Blaine. Kurt trained his eyes on that to avoid the hurt staring him in the face from Blaine. "I hate fighting with you. It scares me. So I bring it up because I know you'll back down and the fight will be over and we'll move on."

When Kurt chanced a glance up at Blaine's face, the guilt from every time he'd brought up the cheating in the past few months rained down on him. Blaine was staring at him like he either couldn't understand or couldn't believe what Kurt was saying.

"Are you...are you serious?"

"...Yes."

Blaine laughed, but it wasn't comical at all. It made Kurt flinch. curling in on himself. Blaine shook his head, walking past Kurt towards the door. For a moment Kurt thought he was leaving, but then he felt something hit his back. Blaine was stalking past him to the coffee maker, pouring some into his mug. Kurt turned around and picked up what Blaine had thrown at him, frowning.

It was an orange prescription bottle with Blaine's name on it and the drug name fluoxetine.

"What...what is this?"

Blaine leaned his back against the counter and blew on the hot coffee in his mug. "_That _is my bottle of antidepressant medication."

"Since when are you on antidepressants?" Kurt asked, frowning as he looked up.

"For about a year now. You wouldn't know about that, though, because I was afraid to tell you. First it was because we were broken up, then it was because we were still newly back together and I couldn't find the right time to tell you, then it was because every time we fought you brought up the very reason I even _need _those stupid fucking pills."

"I-I don't understand."

Blaine sighed. It looked like some of the anger left his body as he set the coffee mug down on the counter and walked towards Kurt, taking the pills back. "The very _second _I slept with Eli, I knew I had fucked up. I knew that there was something wrong with me that I would go and do that to you. So I talked to my parents, and I went to a therapist, and I got the prescription for those pills. I've been on them for about a year and they've helped me a lot. I was in a really bad place for a while, Kurt, because of that fucked up thing I did... And you just keep looming it over me every time we fight.

"Do you realize how much it hurts me every time you call me 'crazy' when we're fighting? Or 'psycho' or anything else in that vein? You think I didn't go through months of feeling crazy because I had to go to therapy and take these pills to make me happy? And then the icing on the cake, you always bring up when I cheated on you."

"I didn't know," Kurt offered.

"Of course you didn't know. How could I ever tell you with the way you've been treating me?"

Kurt shrank, crossing his arms over his chest. "I-I'm so sorry, Blaine. I know that's not enough, but I... It's all I have. I'm just really sorry."

Blaine didn't say anything. He went behind Kurt again, and Kurt turned around to see him putting the pills back in his messenger bag. Blaine stood up and ran a hand over his hair, grabbing the back of his neck and sighing.

"It's not completely your fault. I should have brought this up with you months ago. Not just the pills, but everything. I've been too scared of how you'd react."

"What did you think I would do?"

"Leave me," Blaine said easily, shrugging.

Kurt frowned. "I wouldn't leave you, Blaine. Not ever, but especially not over something like this." He took tentative steps toward Blaine, holding out his hand. Blaine looked at it for a second before reaching his own out to take it, threading their fingers together. "I would do everything in my power to help you feel better-to help you feel loved and safe."

"Yeah, what a great job you've been doing of that," Blaine said, starting to pull his hand away.

Kurt held on tighter, pulling Blaine a couple steps towards him. "No, Blaine-Look, I've been a terrible fiancé, I know that. I... Blaine, I feel like all we've been doing is fighting lately. And over _nothing. _I was scared that it was a bad sign, that it meant we weren't good together, so I was just trying to end the fights. It was...the _worst _way possible, I know that. And I'm not proud of it. And I'm _so _sorry for it."

"Healthy couples fight, Kurt," Blaine told him. "My parents, for all their failings, love each other more than any other couple I've ever seen, and you know they fight _all the time. _I've even been at your house when your dad and Carole are fighting and you know how much they love each other. It's what people in love do. They drive each other up the wall and annoy the hell out of each other. It's because there's so much passion between them."

Kurt nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm so, so sorry. I've just been so scared of losing you; you moving up here hasn't worked out the way either of us pictured it would and I was just scared of what it meant for our relationship. You know when I get scared I lash out. I'm so sorry it's been at you."

"I forgive you," Blaine said, pulling Kurt into a tight hug. "You're not losing me, Kurt. I know that us living together right away didn't work out, but it doesn't mean _we're _not going to work out. You and I are forever. We have been since the moment we met. If anything, the fact that we fight is a _good _sign, not a bad one. It means we feel so passionately about each other that we can't stop going at each other, in a positive or negative context."

Kurt huffed out a laugh, holding Blaine tighter. "I really, really love you, you know."

"I know. I really, really love you."

"I'm going to make this up to you, all of it." Kurt pulled away, holding Blaine's face in his hands. "And we are going to sit down right now and I want you to tell me everything that's been happening. I need you to start at the beginning, with the therapist and the pills. Have you been going to therapy here?"

"I haven't felt the need to yet. I've been in a pretty good place here, despite our fighting. But I have the number of a therapist that Jenna, my therapist back home, recommended up here in case I do need her."

Kurt nodded, leaning forward to place a soft kiss against Blaine's lips. "Okay." He tugged Blaine's hand, leading him towards the kitchen table and sitting him down. He poured out the coffee in Blaine's mug that had gone cold by now and poured them both hot cups from the pot, setting one down in front of Blaine and sitting with his own beside him. "Now tell me everything."

"That's a lot, Kurt," Blaine sighed, staring down at his coffee. "Do you mind if we just take it easy tonight? Let's just relax and cuddle on the couch and be happy we're not fighting for once."

"Okay, we can do that. I just have one more question, though."

"What?"

"The antidepressants and therapy and everything... Was it because of me? Because we broke up?"

"No," Blaine answered, shaking his head. "Like I said, it was before we even officially broke up. It was right after I slept with Eli."

"And how bad was it?"

"Kurt, you said just one question."

"I know, but I just want to know. Was it, like, really bad? Did you hurt yourself or anything like that?"

Blaine took Kurt's hand, squeezing it for reassurance. "No. I didn't hurt myself. It was pretty bad for a while. Jenna and my psychiatrist Dr. Willson diagnosed me with a major depressive episode. Because it was my first, I wasn't diagnosed with the disorder, but it's still a possibility for the future if I have another episode."

"So what does that mean? A major depressive episode?"

"_Kurt."_

"This is concerning to me, Blaine! I need to know so I can be prepared if this happens again, like you just said it might."

"Can we at least move to the couch?"

Kurt stood up, carrying his coffee and setting it on the table before curling up on the sofa, patting the space beside him. Blaine sat down and leaned into Kurt, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist.

"So..." Kurt prompted after a minute.

Blaine laughed. "Kurt! I thought we were relaxing!"

"Just tell me about your depression!"

"It's not something I can just easily talk about. It was the hardest time in my life. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I couldn't do anything. I just laid around all day every day. I was exhausted but I couldn't fall asleep and I was starving but I couldn't eat. It was torture. And the only person I wanted to talk to about it to feel better was you, but you hated me-for good reason-and I was completely alone."

Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead and hugged him tight against his body. "I never hated you."

"You did."

"I didn't. I was mad, and hurt, and betrayed, but I never hated you."

"You should have. I hated me."

"You don't hate yourself anymore, do you?" Kurt asked, looking down at Blaine.

Blaine tilted his head up to meet Kurt's gaze, shaking his head. "No. I don't. I have some bad days sometimes, but Jenna really helped me work through that self-hate. She taught me about automatic thoughts and how to challenge them and take control of my mind again."

"Automatic thoughts? What does that mean?"

"Kurt, seriously, I don't want to talk about it anymore. We can later but I'm done for the night."

"Okay," Kurt said, smoothing Blaine's hair in the back. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's just hard for me to discuss and I don't want to think about it right now, not when you and I have just made up. I just want to enjoy us being together with the loft to ourselves, a quiet night in."

"That sounds perfect," Kurt said.

And that's exactly what they did. They watched HGTV and talked about their ideal future home for when they had kids. They didn't agree on everything, but when they disagreed one of them compromised and they moved on. They kissed for a bit, soft and slow, until Blaine said he should be getting home. Kurt suggested Blaine should stay the night, so he did.

They talked more about Blaine's depression in the morning, and Kurt wanted to kick himself for not seeing so much of it sooner. But he was glad they were finally talking now, and he knew they'd be okay.

They still fought, but Kurt never brought up the cheating incident again.


	29. Wanted

_Anon prompted: Now that Mercedes and Sam are dating Blaine feels like he is in the way again. Morosely he wonders if he's doomed to continually bother and burden everyone around him. This time around however he's determined to be proactive and applies for dorm housing before either Sam or Mercedes want/ask him to move out too._

… … …

"Hey, dude. Do you mind disappearing to Kurt's for a bit so me and Mercedes can have date night?"

Blaine glanced over on the couch at Sam and Mercedes cuddling, Sam giving Blaine a pointed look.

Mercedes smacked Sam on the chest. "Don't listen to him. You can stay if you want, Blaine, this is your apartment too."

"No, um, that's okay. I'll text him."

Blaine pulled out his phone and sent a text to Kurt, but he already knew what the answer would be. Kurt was busy tonight—just like every night. Blaine had come to terms with it and learned to just enjoy the time he _did _get with Kurt. And now that he had a separate apartment, it wasn't a big deal. He could stay at his own place, out of Kurt's hair.

Except now he was in the way even at his own apartment. If Mercedes and Sam wanted alone time, and Kurt wanted alone time, where was Blaine supposed to go?

His phone buzzed in his hand with Kurt's reply.

_I'm sorry, baby, but I really need to get this project done this weekend and I'll never finish if you're here to distract me ;)_

Translation: You're not welcome here.

Blaine sighed internally but plastered on a smile for his roommates. "Looks like you guys get the apartment to yourselves. Don't get too crazy." He stood up and grabbed his messenger bag from the floor, stopping at the door to slip on his coat and snatch his keys.

"Thanks, Blaine!" Sam called.

"Yeah, thank you, Blaine. And tell Kurt thank you!" Mercedes added.

Blaine nodded even though neither of them were looking at him. "I will."

Once he was outside, he realized he truly had no idea where to go. He could go to a coffee shop, he supposed, but they all closed eventually and he had no idea how long he'd need to be gone. The diner everyone worked at was open 24/7 so he could go there. Yeah, that wasn't a bad idea, and he doubted any of his friends were working at the moment.

He walked in and had to wait a few minutes for a harried hostess he didn't recognize to seat him, even though it was almost empty. A clock on the wall above the bar told him it was nearing 10 o'clock at night. He stared unseeing at his menu before his waitress came by.

"What do you want?" Santana asked, not even bothering to look up from her little notepad.

"Is that any way to greet a customer? No wonder you never get any tips," Blaine said.

She looked up and her whole body relaxed at the sight of him. She fell on the bench across from him in his booth and sighed. "Thank god you're here. I've only been here for an hour and I want to kill myself."

"When do you get off?"

"Three in the morning," she grumbled. "Don't ask me how Gunther got me into it. I've been asking myself that repeatedly since I got here."

"Well, I'll be here for a while to keep you company."

Santana frowned. "Why aren't you home?"

"Sam and Mercedes wanted 'alone time,'" Blaine told her, making a face.

"What about the loft?"

"Kurt's busy with a project."

"Ah." Santana slapped the table and stood. "Then it looks like it's me and you tonight, Bowties. I'll pour us some coffee."

"I'm not even wearing a bowtie right now!" he called as she walked away.

He pulled out his notebooks and set them out on the table. If he was going to be here for a while, he may as well be productive. Santana came back over and set a mug of coffee on the notebook in front of him, sliding into the booth again.

"Thanks," Blaine said, blowing on it before taking a sip. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I just did; I brought you coffee. Besides, there are more employees than customers here right now. I think we're good."

Blaine nodded and took another sip of his coffee, flipping through his pages of notes for play analysis. Santana drummed her fingernails on the tabletop beside her coffee. The hostess that had seated him and another waiter were flirting over the counter at the bar. Blaine watched them, grimacing.

"You gonna tell me what's bothering you, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?" Santana asked.

Blaine glanced at her. "What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"Seriously?" Santana nodded her head to the employees at the bar. "You're staring at them like they've personally offended you. Which, I don't blame you, they're annoying as hell, but isn't really like you."

Blaine picked at the corner of his notebook pages, flapping them over and over again. "I don't know. I guess I just assumed that after so long apart, Kurt would want to spend as much time as possible with me like I do with him. I didn't really consider that he'd get used to the alone time and want to stay that way."

"Kurt's always been a closed off person, Blaine. You know that."

"That doesn't make it any easier for me when he shuts me out. I'm supposed to be the one person he lets in."

"And he has, but you have to be patient. You guys were apart for almost a year, and not just physically. You two broke up. Kurt was alone and hurting and rebuilt all those walls, and it's going to take him time to let you back in again, especially given the circumstances that broke you guys up."

"Are you saying we'll never have a good relationship again because I cheated?"

"No, I'm saying it takes longer than a few months to fully repair that damage and build that trust again."

Blaine sighed, taking a long drink of his coffee. He picked up his pen and doodled music notes in the margins. "I hate this. How am I supposed to fix us if he never wants to be around me?"

"You just have to be patient, Blaine," Santana said. "It takes time."

Blaine nodded. He appreciated Santana's advice, but that didn't ease his frustration. It also didn't help his situation with Sam and Mercedes. He was a burden to everyone and had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some cheesy bacon fries. Greasy food is the answer to everything," Santana told him, moving to stand.

"That's a much different sentiment from your Cheerios days. You hardly ate at all back then."

A shadow passed over Santana's face. "Fuck the Cheerios and fuck Sue Sylvester," she said before stalking off to the kitchen.

Although interested by Santana's reaction, Blaine had too much else on his mind to dwell on it. He tapped his pen on the notebook while he waited, thinking things over.

There had to be some solution, some way he could get out of people's way. He considered getting his own apartment, but without at least one roommate, he'd never be able to convince his parents to pay for it. They were already frustrated that he'd moved once; he couldn't imagine they'd approve of him doing it again. They'd probably assume things weren't working out in New York and insist he come home.

They wouldn't be wrong, exactly, but he still didn't want to deal with it. He'd already heard enough about the fact he wasn't living in the dorms as a freshman.

The dorms!

That was Blaine's answer. NYADA didn't have many, but they were there. With winter break coming up soon, Blaine could apply for on-campus housing for the spring semester. The deadline was probably coming up, so he'd have to apply as soon as he got home, but he could probably still make it.

Blaine smiled and bounced in his seat a little. He'd found a solution, a way to get out of everyone's hair.

When Santana came back with the fries, he grinned at her. "Thanks!"

"Your mood has certainly improved," she remarked, frowning as she sat down.

"Well, you've really helped me."

"I didn't do much."

"You did plenty. I'm really glad we're friends, Santana."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said, but she was smiling.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until Blaine said, "Hey, how do you know Kurt so well anyway? He never told me you two were close."

"We're not, really. I mean, we're closer now than before, but we're still not going to sit around braiding each other's hair and gossiping. Kurt and I are just…more similar than either of us would care to admit."

Blaine nodded and ate another fry. It made a lot of sense, actually. They were both very closed-off people, just in different ways. Santana lashed out and Kurt kept a distance. Different ways of handling the same fears.

Once it was nearing one in the morning, Blaine decided to head home. Santana told him to text her when he got there—they were all still worried about walking alone in the city at night after what happened with Kurt. He got home okay, though. Sam and Mercedes were making out on the couch, so Blaine crept up the stairs as quietly as he could so as not to be noticed and headed to his and Sam's room.

After sending off a quick text to Santana, Blaine opened his laptop and pulled up his NYADA student page. He signed in and went to the residence life page, filling out the online application. He wasn't familiar enough with the dorms to know which one to select, so he made a blind choice and finished the application.

Then, he finally went to sleep.

… … …

He woke the next morning to Sam shaking him. He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, so, um… Mercedes and I were gonna go out to lunch, but do you think you could be gone when we get back?"

"What time is it?"

"Like, noon."

Blaine groaned again and pushed himself to sit up. "Yeah. I can do that."

"Sweet, bro, you're the best."

"Sure."

Sam left the room, and after a few minutes Blaine heard the front door close. The apartment fell quiet. He slowly got out of bed, grabbing a new pair of boxer briefs and heading down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.

As he got ready for the day, he couldn't help but feel resentful for the way Sam was practically shoving him out of his own apartment. The thought of living on campus helped ease his anger, though. Next semester, none of this would be an issue. He'd be out of everyone's way and he wouldn't have to worry about being unwanted and unwelcome.

He decided to risk it, though, and headed to Kurt's apartment when he left. If Kurt was too busy, he could always turn Blaine away, but there was no fault in trying.

Kurt answered the door and smiled. "Blaine! I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, Sam kinda kicked me out to be with Mercedes."

"Ah." Kurt looked behind him, then opened the door wider. "Well, you can come in. I have to warn you, though, I'm still working on my project."

"What project is it?" Blaine asked, following Kurt inside.

Kurt headed for the kitchen table where several different fabric swatches were strewn across the surface, various sketches laying among them. "It's just something I'm doing for myself. I'm glad to be at NYADA and doing performance, but I do miss fashion design. I used to make my own clothes all the time and I haven't done it in a while, so I wanted to take the weekend to focus on it."

Blaine frowned. "You couldn't have done that with me around?"

He had to admit, it hurt. Not only had Kurt not even mentioned this to him, but he wasn't allowed to be around it. If he had texted Kurt before he came over, Kurt probably would have told him not to. It hurt that Kurt had something he was so passionate about and didn't want to share it with Blaine.

"It's not that, babe, I just wanted to concentrate," Kurt told him, smiling.

Blaine tried to push down his feelings and offered a smile. "Okay."

"Now that you're here, though," Kurt said, slipping Blaine's coat off his shoulders and leaning in for a kiss. "I can show you what I've been working on. I think some of it is stuff you'd really like."

"Sounds good," Blaine said.

Kurt kissed him again before stepping back, walking over to the table and pointing at different sketches and talking about them.

Blaine felt left out. There was this whole side of Kurt that Kurt had wanted to keep separate from him and he didn't understand why. Of course, Kurt was showing him now, but Blaine couldn't help feeling like Kurt never would have told him about this at all if he hadn't shown up unannounced.

"They all look really good, Kurt. I'm proud of you," he managed to say, fighting back the horrible feelings that kept trying to claw their way out of his mind.

Kurt beamed at him. "Thank you. I'm sorry I brushed you off last night, but I was really in the zone and needed to keep going without any distraction. I even made Rachel go somewhere else to run lines so she wouldn't disturb my flow."

That made Blaine feel a little better, knowing that even Rachel had been shooed away, but not much.

"Where's Santana?" Blaine asked.

"Oh, she's sleeping. She worked the late shift last night," Kurt said, gesturing to the couch.

Blaine hadn't even noticed her there. "Oh," he said quietly. "I didn't notice her there."

Kurt kept talking in his regular voice. "It's fine. She's a really deep sleeper. I watch TV out here with her sleeping sometimes. You have to, like, physically drag her off the couch and stand her up for her body to wake up, and even then sometimes she needs an extra slap to the face." When Blaine's eyes widened, Kurt hastened to add, "Not a hard slap! Just a soft one, enough to wake her up."

Blaine looked over at her again. He was glad they'd had the opportunity to spend time together the night before. He had a feeling they'd be really good friends if he actively pursued it—(he knew better than to expect her to do so).

"Well, I can go if you want to keep working," Blaine offered, already taking steps backwards towards the door.

Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand, pulling him back to him. "Don't be silly. You're already here, you may as well stay. I need a break, anyway. Wanna go to my room and make out?"

Blaine grinned, feeling a tightness that had been clutching his chest loosen. "Definitely."

… … …

The happy feeling was short-lived.

Blaine was able to spend the day with Kurt, but once evening rolled around and Blaine suggested they go to dinner since they hadn't had a date in a while, Kurt apologized and told him he already had dinner plans with some friends from school.

It was little things like that that kept happening. Sam would kick him out, and Kurt would be busy, and Blaine always ended up going to the diner. Santana was usually on duty whenever Blaine went, which was nice. It was never slow enough for her to sit down with him like she had that first night, but it was nice just being around her and knowing that they were helping each other out by being near each other.

After a couple weeks of this, Blaine was really starting to get frustrated. He'd gotten the name of his new roommate for the dorm next semester, Kyle, so that was at least something. He knew that he wouldn't have to deal with this for much longer.

At one of their Monday night dinners just before winter break, Blaine decided to announce his plan.

"I'm moving into the dorms next semester."

All conversation came to a halt.

Kurt frowned. "What?"

"I'm moving on campus."

"But you live with us," Sam said, arm around Mercedes across the table.

"I know, and you guys always want the apartment to yourselves. So I'm giving it to you."

Mercedes said, "Blaine, we're sorry we've been pushing you out, but we never meant for you to _move _out."

"It's not a big deal," Blaine said, shrugging. "I've already gotten my dorm assignment. My roommate's name is Kyle. He seems cool enough."

"When were you going to tell me about this?" Kurt asked beside him.

Blaine gave him a look. "Whenever you were free enough to spend more than an hour with me, but it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon."

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're always busy, Kurt. With projects or other friends or whatever. You don't have time for me. Every time those two kick me out," Blaine said, pointing to Mercedes and Sam, "I text you to see if I can come by, but you always give me some excuse. So I've been going to the diner. But I practically live there now and it's really inconvenient. I'd rather just have a place of my own where I'm not constantly unwelcome."

"You're not unwelcome here," Kurt tried to say, but Blaine cut him off.

"Bullshit. I'm sorry, Kurt, but I'm calling bullshit on that."

"You could have asked me, Blaine," Rachel said. "I would've hung out with you here. Kurt may have been busy but I could've used you to help me run lines!"

Blaine narrowed his eyes and tilted his head at her, giving her a look that clearly told her she was out of her goddamn mind and what was she even thinking?

Santana, who had yet to say anything yet, spoke up. "If you guys didn't want him to feel unwelcome, maybe you should've made more of an effort to have him around."

Blaine looked at her, conveying his appreciation. All the times he'd been at the diner, he and Santana had talked about this at length. She had asked him last week why he was always at the diner, so he had to come clean and tell her everything. She had offered to move out of the loft and find and apartment with him, just the two of them, but his dorm was already locked in. He had appreciated her offer, though. It was nice to know there was someone who wanted him around.

"He is not unwelcome!" Kurt insisted, obviously exasperated.

"Kurt, think of all the times over the past few weeks that I've texted you asking to come over. And try to think of a single time when you said yes."

"I—I've just been busy."

"Yeah, I know. You've been so busy you haven't had time for me at all." Blaine shook his head and stood up from the table. "Look, it's already been done. I applied to live in the dorms weeks ago and it's set. I just wanted to tell everyone."

He headed into Kurt's bedroom to grab his coat, but when he turned around he found that Kurt had followed him there.

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt asked. "Is this for attention? Are you upset because we don't spend every waking minute together?"

"We don't spend _any _minutes together, Kurt! Ever! I get that I broke us when I cheated on you, and I messed everything up, but—"

"Whoa, wait, why are you bringing that up?"

"Because it's obviously the reason you don't want me around. You got used to being alone again and now you don't want me anymore. I get it. I hurt you. But you don't have to push me away like this. If you don't want me, all you have to do is say so."

Kurt's face fell. He took steps towards Blaine and grabbed both of his hands. "Blaine, I want you. I wouldn't have said yes when you proposed if I didn't."

"Then why won't you ever spend time with me? I swear, winning the lottery would be easier than getting you to agree to spend time with me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I know that's, like, the worst excuse ever, but it's true. I guess I just got used to a certain lifestyle here and I haven't been very good at factoring you into it. I'm sorry."

Blaine nodded. "Thank you. But that doesn't change anything. I'm locked in with the dorm situation. I'd have to pay a fee to back out, and even then, I'm still not really welcome at Sam and Mercedes' place."

"It's still yours too, Blaine."

"No it's not. It never really has been. And I can't move back in here, Kurt, that much as been made very clear to us."

Kurt frowned and glanced down at his feet before meeting Blaine's gaze again. "Okay, I know it didn't work out the first time, but maybe we could try again. I mean, we're going to have to learn how to live together sometime; we're getting married."

Blaine smiled, glad that Kurt was at least trying, but shook his head. "We shouldn't. There's not enough breathing room here for either of us. We'd end up right where we were last time, and I don't want to fight like that with you again."

"Then what's your solution? Because the dorm isn't it, Blaine. The dorms at NYADA are disgusting."

"I don't have a choice, Kurt."

"I told him we could move in together, Kurt!" Santana yelled. "He refused!"

Blaine and Kurt both sighed, exchanging a look. Kurt called out in a normal voice, "You guys can hear everything we're saying, can't you?"

"Yes," Rachel said.

They pulled the curtain back and stood looking at their friends.

Santana shrugged, picking up another piece of pizza from the box in the middle. "I told Blaine he and I could get an apartment together. He turned me down."

"I'm already locked in with the dorms, Santana."

"So pay the stupid fee and move in with me. God, don't make me beg. If I have to live with Berry and Kurt any longer it's going to be a murder-suicide situation up in here."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her. "Real nice, Satan."

"Just speaking the truth."

"Fine. If everyone will just get off my back about this, I'll find an apartment with Santana. Okay?"

"You really don't have to move out," Mercedes said. "I'm sorry we've been so…"

"Obnoxious?" Blaine filled.

Sam gave him a look. "I think she was probably going to say distracted with each other."

"Close enough," Blaine said.

"The dorms aren't so bad," Artie offered. "I live at the ones for NYU and they're pretty nice."

Kurt shook his head. "NYADA's dorms are terrible. They know most of their students live off-campus so they don't even bother trying to make the on-campus housing livable."

"Then I'll call my parents in the morning and talk to them about finding another apartment. Again. Hopefully they won't be too mad."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Santana said. "If they're mad, just hand me the phone and I'll smooth everything out."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Blaine told her.

Kurt turned his back on their friends and faced Blaine, meeting Blaine's eyes. "We're okay, right? I know I've been sucky and distant lately, and I'm sorry. If I do it again, you can tell me. And I'll try to cut back on other stuff and make more time for you."

Blaine placed his hands on either side of Kurt's face and leaned forward, kissing him deeply. "We're okay. Just make time for me, that's all I ask."

"I will. I promise."

"Can we get back to dinner now? Because I was told there would be cinna-sticks for dessert and I like my bread," Santana said.

Blaine and Kurt joined the table again. The conversation resumed, focused on the cinna-sticks and whether they had enough icing or not. Blaine watched all his friends, smiling when Kurt grabbed his hand under the table and leaned over to give him a kiss.

Maybe he was unwelcome sometimes, when Kurt had things to do or Mercedes and Sam wanted to be alone. But looking around the table at his friends and feeling Kurt's hand in his, the way Kurt kept staring at him with nothing but love in his eyes, Blaine knew he was definitely wanted.


	30. Insecurities

_Summary: Tiny reaction ficlet to Blaine's insecurities in tonight's episode, Tested. Kind of a post-conversation conversation? Really just taking what Blaine and Kurt talked about at the end of the episode and continuing it to get a better resolution._

… … …

It isn't until later that it really hits Kurt.

It's after they've had their conversation, and after Kurt let Blaine cry on his shoulder, and after Kurt led them both back to the bedroom, and after Kurt peeled off Blaine's clothes layer by layer, kissing his whole body and showing him just how much he's loved, and after Kurt has made sure that Blaine is taken care of before he takes care of himself.

_I don't like the way I feel about myself, Kurt, okay?_

_I feel insecure around you._

_I'm just scared that one day you're going to wake up and say "I don't love him anymore."_

And it's that, combined with Blaine's face when Kurt had brought up Eli earlier that week, that makes Kurt finally realize what's going on with his fiancé.

"Blaine?"

"Mmm?"

Blaine is laying on his back next to Kurt on the bed. His hand is blindly laying on Kurt's lower stomach—an attempt to keep them connected even as Blaine is half-asleep.

"Remember when I said we talk too much?"

"Yeah."

"Can I take that back?"

Blaine peels one eye open and looks at Kurt. "Why?"

"I think we need to talk about some of the things you said earlier."

"Why?" Blaine repeats, drawing out the word in suspicion.

Kurt rolls over on his stomach and Blaine lets his hand slide across Kurt's abs and to his waist, resting on Kurt's hip. Kurt props his head up on his hand, his elbow supporting him.

"You said some things that worry me."

"Like what?"

"'I don't like the way I feel about myself,' for one. How _do _you feel about yourself?"

Blaine's stare drops lower, focusing somewhere around Kurt's collarbone. "I, uh…I feel…inadequate."

"Because of me?"

"Kind of? But it's mostly about me. I think that after we broke up, I found solace in things that gave me immediate gratification. I could go to the store and buy a pint of ice cream and eat it, and bam, I felt a little better. I could go to that stupid porn website and jack off and immediately feel better. I think I just kind of let myself go, and I haven't let myself realize it until now. Next to you."

"And that makes you feel bad about yourself?"

"Yeah. I've always been strong, ever since I learned that I had to be when I came out. When I got beat up at that dance, I decided from then on that I'd never let anyone victimize me again. It was how I identified myself, how I knew who I was. I was the strong Blaine Anderson who came in and saved you when you were vulnerable."

Kurt narrows his eyes. "But I'm not vulnerable. I don't need a hero, Blaine."

"I know that, Kurt, but you asked me to tell you how I feel and that's what it is. I liked knowing that I could protect you."

"I can protect myself," Kurt points out, trying to be gentle but needing Blaine to understand.

Blaine sits up and runs his hands into his hair, sighing. "It's not about you specifically. It's about the way _I _felt knowing that I could protect others and myself. It was my identity. And I feel like I've lost it and I don't know who I am anymore. I feel weak and anxious and lost all the time here." He looks over at Kurt and says, "You changed here, Kurt. You got here and you really figured out who you were and you found yourself and you have this new great, confident energy, and that's great. I am…_so _proud of you for that. I'm just wondering when it's going to be my turn."

"It takes time, Blaine," Kurt says, pushing himself to sit up. He scoots closer to Blaine and slips an arm around Blaine's waist, kissing his bare shoulder. "It took me a while to find my footing here. Even when I started my band, that didn't work out right away. I was jealous of Elliott and thought he might take my spotlight away, but it was that jealousy that made me come to terms with my own insecurities and really find a way to be confident in who I am, who I've always been and who I've become. It's just part of growing up."

"I just feel…lightyears behind you. It's like I'm constantly trying to catch up to you here."

"You'll get there, I promise. I'm not going anywhere. I've paused on the race track and turned around and I'm waiting for you. Okay?"

Blaine gives him a small smile. "Okay."

They lean forward and meet in the middle for a kiss, and Kurt can tell Blaine wants to go back to cuddling and probably go for round two, but he has one more thing to ask about.

"You said something else, too."

"What?" Blaine asks, frowning.

"You said you were worried I'd wake up one day and not love you anymore."

Blaine looks away, then. "I am. Worried about that, I mean."

"Why? Is it something I'm not doing? Is it that I'm not showing you that I love you enough? If it is, it's okay, you can tell me, but I need to know."

Blaine shakes his head, looking back at Kurt. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Kurt asks, tilting his head. He brushes a stray curl from Blaine's forehead and lets his hand linger before dropping it. When Blaine doesn't answer, Kurt continues, "Does this have something to do with our break up?"

Then Blaine looks up at him with that face that says he hates how well Kurt can read him. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you."

"You do," Blaine says, smiling in a way that looks self-deprecating and nodding. "It's just that…after what I did, I wouldn't blame you for leaving me. It all feels too good to be true that you've taken me back, and you want to marry me, and it's this constant worry that I have that one day you're going to wake up and realize you've made this giant mistake by being with me again. And now that you've turned into this—this _sex god _and all these guys—these guys that are _so _much hotter than me—are hitting on you, I'm afraid that you'll realize you deserve better."

"Well, first of all, thanks for the sex god comment," Kurt says, smirking. He nuzzles the side of Blaine's face with his forehead and kisses his cheek, getting him to smile. "Second of all, I could never get any better. You're the best there is. You want to know why?"

"Why?" Blaine asks, biting his lip.

"Because I am hopelessly in love with you, and you are so desperately in love with me. It's as simple as that. There is never going to be anybody who loves me the way you do, and I can tell you with 100% certainty that there will never be anyone who loves you the way I do. We're soulmates, Blaine. You said it in your speech to me when you proposed, so I know that you know it. You just need reminding sometimes."

Blaine smiles at him, reaching a hand behind Kurt's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Anytime."

Kurt grabs Blaine's face and pulls him back in when he starts to back away, opening his mouth against Blaine's. They fall back onto the bed, Blaine rolling over on top of Kurt and licking his way into Kurt's mouth. Kurt's hands trail down from Blaine's shoulder blades to his ass, squeezing and making Blaine buck against him.

"And you _definitely _don't need to worry about this ass, Blaine Devon."

"_Kurt!"_

"What?"

Blaine smiles at him, kissing him deeply. "Nothing. I just really love this new confident you."

"Soon enough you'll be confident again, too. I promise."

Kurt brings Blaine's lips down to his again and seals the promise with a kiss.

Okay, maybe a little more than a kiss.


	31. Blocking Me Out

_Summary: Reaction fic to 5x16.____When Kurt said he thought they talked too much, Blaine took it as a sign that Kurt was done listening._

… … …

_"You know, sometimes I think we talk too much."_

The words rang in Blaine's ears, over and over. Anytime another problem came up between them and it seemed like they were heading for a fight, Blaine heard Kurt's words again.

_"You know, sometimes I think we talk too much."_

Such an obvious dismissal of Blaine's voice couldn't just go ignored. Every day, Blaine was faced with the very real possibility that Kurt would leave him, and he didn't need to give Kurt any extra reason to do so. He already had the Eli incident counting against him, and his new less-than-ideal physique, and his lack of self-confidence, and a whole myriad of things that he could see grating on Kurt's nerves every day.

There was something new all the time that Blaine had done wrong. He made the coffee too strong, he folded the linens incorrectly, he cooked something unhealthy for dinner. And Blaine never missed the side-eye glances Kurt gave him when he got a second helping of a meal—especially dessert.

Even when all they were doing was studying together, Kurt would shoot him irritating glances if he tapped his pen on the table or wrote too loudly with his pencil. It was like no matter what he did, he was getting on Kurt's nerves.

But anytime Kurt said something, Blaine just stopped whatever it was and forced a smile.

"So what'd you have in movie night?" Kurt asked.

Blaine held up the DVD case for _The Avengers. _"Who doesn't love superheros, right?"

"Oh," Kurt said, frowning but turning away so he thought Blaine wouldn't see..

So Blaine backpedaled and said, "We don't have to, though. It was just an idea. What did you have in mind?"

And then Kurt picked the movie, and all was well again. There was no reason for Blaine to say that _The Avengers _had quickly become his favourite movie, or that the part where Bruce admitted to trying to kill himself resonated a little too deeply with him. Kurt didn't want to hear it, so Blaine wouldn't say it.

After a while, it just became second nature for Blaine not to say anything at all. Ever. Even when Kurt asked for his opinion.

"What do you think about these pants?" Kurt asked, spinning around in the mirror by the dressing rooms.

Blaine shrugged. "What do you think?" A simple deflection, but it put the focus on Kurt's opinion instead of his own, and Kurt always went for it.

"I think they make my butt look good, but they don't hang on my thighs right. I'm putting them back."

"Okay," Blaine said.

It was just easier that way. There was no argument, and no room for Kurt to shoot down whatever Blaine had to say.

And it wasn't that Kurt was always shooting him down. It felt unfair to cast Kurt in this awful light, even if it was only in his head, and he had to admit that Kurt wasn't always like that. A lot of times when Blaine would shrug and deflect, Kurt would pursue it and say, "No, I really want to know what you think about this." That always made Blaine feel good. It made him feel like Kurt really valued his opinion and what he had to say.

But those times didn't stick with him as deeply as when Kurt would shrug him off.

Still, it wasn't always Kurt's fault that he didn't give Blaine the opportunity to speak. A lot of times, there were things that would annoy Blaine about Kurt, but he wouldn't bring them up. The way Kurt ate salads, for instance, bugged the living daylights out of Blaine. He'd never realized how crunchy lettuce was or how slippery the dressing could be. Sure, Kurt was eating healthier, but he was still one of the loudest eaters Blaine had ever met no matter what he was eating. But Blaine never said anything.

Then there was the actual fight they'd had, when they finally talked about everything Blaine had been feeling since he'd moved to New York. Well, not everything. Throughout the whole conversation, anytime Blaine spoke, all he could see was Kurt frowning at him, like what he was saying didn't make any sense. Even as Kurt talked to him, trying to reassure him, it felt like Kurt was just dismissing his fears, on some level. Like what Blaine was saying was so crazy, it didn't matter at all.

So Blaine never bothered elaborating. He never bothered telling Kurt that ever since they'd gotten back together, he'd had terrible nightmares of Kurt leaving him. He didn't bother to say that ever since he'd moved out, they'd gotten worse. He didn't bother to say that he felt like he didn't even know who he was anymore, and that scared him most of all.

He didn't bother saying any of it because Kurt didn't want to hear it.

_"We talk too much."_

One simple sentence that was running on repeat in Blaine's head, torturing him night and day. He'd lost count of the number of times that he'd open his mouth to say something to Kurt and promptly close it again.

Anytime he took too long to get ready because he couldn't stop staring at himself in disgust in the mirror, he just told Kurt he couldn't find the sweater he was looking for. Anytime he skipped a meal with Kurt, he just said he'd had a big snack earlier and wasn't hungry again yet. Anytime he saw Kurt around the guys in their combat class and hung back, afraid to even be in Kurt's presence around those guys, he just said he felt he needed the extra practice with the weaponry.

The constant repression of expression was getting to Blaine, though. It reminded him of living at home. Whenever he felt stifled there, he disappeared into the garage and spent a few hours with the punching bag. Here in New York, he had yet to find a gym, and even if he did he wasn't sure he'd want to go. He felt embarrassed enough around Kurt; he really didn't want to deal with the judging eyes of athletes and weight trainers.

There was always performance, though. He went to a performing arts school, for goodness sake. Pouring his heart into a song always helped him work through things, especially when it was something deeply emotional and not so much physical aggression that he needed releasing.

So, when he got back to his apartment after classes, he headed into the living room and went straight for the iPod dock above the fireplace. True to form, he had a playlist for his emotional distress created and ready, so he hit play and let go.

Through the first couple of songs, he couldn't shake the timidity he'd been feeling for the past few weeks. He knew no one was home, but it made him anxious to belt out the words, afraid of being heard. By the fourth song, though, he managed to push through, ignoring the way every bone in his body screamed at him to make himself smaller, quieter.

Then a song came on that he truly couldn't keep quiet with.

_Excuse me, but I've got a request_  
_Could you take the gag off of my mouth_  
_I admit that I'm fairly impressed_  
_Cause you're the best at blocking me out_

It was one of those random songs that he usually skipped when he set his whole music collection on shuffle. He had such a wide array of music that oftentimes he found himself skipping several songs to get to the right one depending on his mood. But this one felt just right.

_Hey hey, can you hear anything I say_  
_I'm feeling unwanted, that's not what I wanted_  
_And attention to me is something you refuse to pay_

He lost himself in the song, consumed by thoughts of not only Kurt, but of everyone he'd ever felt silenced by. His parents, his brother, his teachers, his bullies. All of the people that had made him feel small.

As the song slowed down and drew to its close, Blaine jumped at the sound of the sliding doors to the living room being opened. He turned around to see Kurt standing there.

"H-hi," he managed, going and turning his music off. "I didn't know you were here."

"We talked about having a study date at 4pm today. It's a few minutes past. The door was unlocked, so I just let myself in."

Blaine gulped and nodded. "Right. Sorry."

There was a beat of silence, awkward tension hanging in the room. Kurt broke it and said, "How long have you felt like that?"

"Like what?"

"Don't play dumb, Blaine. You don't sing like that unless you mean it."

Blaine looked down. "It was just a performance. Something I was thinking of doing for—"

"You don't have the excuse of glee club anymore, and I know for a fact none of your classes would let you perform that song." Kurt tilted his head. "Why are you making up some excuse?"

"I wasn't. It's not for class, it's for a, uh… Sam just wanted help with… It was—"

"You don't have to lie to me, Blaine. You can be honest."

"Can I?" Blaine asked. "Because if I am being honest, Kurt, I feel like you don't want to hear anything I have to say anymore."

Kurt frowned and Blaine could see his defenses immediately going up. "What does that mean?"

"See? There you go right now. You're getting all defensive. When people get defensive they don't listen. You're making my feelings about you and they're not."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Kurt said. "What feelings have you been having?"

Blaine looked away and went for his book bag, setting notebooks on the table. "Just forget it. We can study."

"No, Blaine." Kurt came over to him and placed a hand over his, stilling his movements. His voice had softened some, which was a good sign. "What are you talking about?"

"It's just…" Blaine sighed and let himself fall onto the couch, rubbing his hands together and staring at his lap. "Lately, I haven't felt like you want to hear anything I have to say. You get defensive, like you just did, and you hear everything through this filter that makes it a stab at you, and it's not."

"Like when? Give me an example."

"Like a few weeks ago, when we talked about my insecurities after fighting in combat class. When I told you I loved being able to protect you, and now that you don't need my protection it makes me feel bad. You made it seem like I was talking about you and asking you to be weaker." Blaine looked up at Kurt then, meeting his eyes. "I wasn't. I was trying to say that I wished I was stronger. That I hated how I had let myself fall behind you. That it—it gave me a sense of _purpose _to be the strong one, to be able to protect you. And without that, I've just felt lost. Like I don't know what you even need me for anymore."

Kurt frowned and slid a hand onto Blaine's knee. "Why didn't you just say that at the time?"

"Because you weren't listening and I could tell. Your face had hardened and you'd gone somewhere else completely."

"I'm sorry," Kurt offered, shrugging. "I didn't even realize it."

"I know. But you told me you think we talk too much, so I just haven't been saying anything."

"When did I say that?"

"In combat class that same day."

"No I didn't."

Blaine nodded. "You did. I wanted to talk about that…porn thing, and you shut me down. You said we talk too much."

"Oh." Kurt blinked. "I don't even remember that. I was just so frustrated with you and I wasn't in the mood for talking at the time." He scooted closer and moved his hand from Blaine's knee to lacing their fingers together. "But I didn't mean that we shouldn't talk at all anymore. Is that why you've been so quiet around me?"

Blaine looked down at their joined hands. "You said you didn't want to talk, so I stopped talking. And then when we did talk, you didn't hear anything I said. I figured you didn't want to listen to me anymore."

"Blaine, I always want to listen to you. If you have a problem, I want you to say something. I just feel like with all the fighting we've been doing lately, it wouldn't kill us to pick and choose our battles. It feels like all we do is have petty arguments lately and I hate fighting with you. I didn't want to silence you, I've just been tired of fighting all the time." Kurt leaned his forehead against Blaine's and said, "I just miss happy us. When we never fought about anything and all we did was make out all the time. Don't you?"

"_Yes,_" Blaine answered, pulling back. "But that's not realistic. Couples argue. We can't just stop saying anything when something bothers us, or it's all going to bottle up for the both of us and explode in an argument much worse than what we've been having." Blaine paused and looked down at the ring on Kurt's left finger. "I don't want to lose you."

Kurt was quiet for a long time. Blaine thought maybe he had said something wrong, but going over it in his head he couldn't think of anything that would've offended Kurt in any rational way. When he finally lifted his gaze, he found Kurt staring at him in the way he knew meant that Kurt was trying to figure him out.

"Blaine, why do you keep thinking I'm going to leave you?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know."

"No, come on, that's a serious question. You said that you were worried I'd wake up one day and realize I don't love you anymore. Why would you worry about that? Do you not trust me? Do you not believe me when I say I love you?"

"It's not that," Blaine said, shaking his head. "It's…it's a combination of things. It's our previous break up, and the _reason _for our break up, and all of the attention you've been getting lately from guys much more attractive than me. It's all of my insecurities building on each other like snow in an avalanche, and it all comes crashing down on me. Every day when I wake up I'm buried in the cold fears that you'll realize what a mistake you've made in taking me back."

Kurt lifted a hand to the side of Blaine's face. "I don't know where these insecurities are coming from, or why they feel so real to you, but they're not, Blaine. We spent…months apart. And in those months all I learned was how truly I cannot live without you. Has our relationship changed since the Eli debacle? Yes. Has that affected our trust? Yes. But does that mean I don't love you anymore? Not a chance. I never, for one second during our break up, stopped loving you. Not the night you told me you slept with someone else, not the day after, not the week after, never. I have always loved you and that is never going to change."

"What about those other guys?" Blaine asked, sniffing and trying to keep himself from crying. He felt like he'd been crying too much lately, and he didn't want Kurt to see how messed up he was over this.

Kurt leaned forward and pulled Blaine into a kiss. "What other guys?"

Blaine smiled and felt a tear roll down his cheek. Kurt swiped it away with the pad of his thumb and offered his own smile.

"There is no one else for me, Blaine. So what if you've gotten a little pudgier lately? You loved me back in high school, before I ever started looking like this. For god's sake, you loved me back when I still swooped my hair to the side like I was in grade school."

Blaine laughed, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. You were never unattractive, though, Kurt." Blaine's face fell and he looked down at his rounded stomach, visible even through the bulky sweater. "I feel disgusting."

"You are _not _disgusting. If anything, you're even more attractive."

"Bullshit," Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah? Stand up."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"Just do it."

He did as told, standing up in front of the couch. Kurt placed his hands on Blaine's hips and spun him around until he was facing away from Kurt.

"Mmhmm. Definitely not disgusting," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's ass. "_This _is not disgusting in the slightest, Blaine. I haven't been able to stop staring at your ass in weeks." He stood up behind Blaine and circled his arms around, placing his hands over Blaine's stomach and hooking his chin over Blaine's shoulder. "And this isn't disgusting either. You are still the incredibly handsome, debonair man I fell in love with in high school, and you always will be. Anytime those stupid guys try to hit on me, all I do is stare at them and compare them to you in my mind, coming up with a million ways they fall short next to you."

"I highly doubt any of them are shorter than me," Blaine joked, but he couldn't deny he felt better.

Kurt laughed behind him and kissed just below his earlobe. "And have I mentioned how much I love your height?"

Blaine turned around in Kurt's arms, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Kurt."

"I love everything about you, Blaine. All of the things you feel insecure about are my favorite parts of you. And that's not going to change. What does need to change is the way we handle our problems. This isn't high school anymore. We need to be mature and talk things through, like we did when we _both _decided on you moving out. But we also need to realize that fighting over who left the milk out just isn't worth it."

"You're right," Blaine said, nodding. "I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you. I guess I just let your words get to me more than they should have."

"And when that happens, you have to tell me. I tend to say things in the heat of an argument that I don't mean. I lash out when I'm angry, you know that. But you have to call me out on it or I won't realize I've done it."

"I can do that."

"Good. Is there anything else that you've been holding back from me?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not really."

"Then can we please go up to your room and have makeup sex? Because that has become my new favorite thing."

"We still have to study," Blaine pointed out, laughing.

"Studying can wait," Kurt said, sliding his hands down from Blaine's waist, slipping them into the back pockets of Blaine's pants and squeezing. "Seriously, Blaine. You wanna know why I was so frustrated that you were on that porn site? Because I haven't been able to spend nearly enough time with your _incredible _ass."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?"

Blaine pulled away and raced up the stairs, Kurt chasing him and staring at his ass the entire time.

Okay, so maybe the extra pounds he'd put on weren't _so _bad. And at least he and Kurt were talking again. It was a relief to know that he could express his feelings and opinions without fear of dismissal or persecution, and he felt a lot more secure about his relationship with Kurt now.

The talking could wait, though, because his outrageously sexy fiancé was stripping naked and climbing on top of him, and there were much better uses for Blaine's mouth.


	32. A Reason to Start Over New

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #752:____Blaine used to have a self-harm problem and that Blaine feels really crappy losing Nationals and add on all the pressure of being a senior, so close to graduation, being in 20 odd clubs and the grief of Finn's death that he relapses at the hotel after Nationals. Klaine, Blam bromance and plenty of Burt/Carole._

… … …

They lost.

Blaine stood stock still on the stage, confetti blowing around them for the winning team and everyone cheering and screaming in excitement. It was a surreal moment, being surrounded by celebration when Blaine felt like his entire life had been flipped upside down.

"It's okay, guys," Mr. Schue told them, clapping a hand on Marley's back. "We did our best and that's all we could have done."

Except that wasn't true, because if they had done their best they would have won. Blaine was sure of it. He shared a look with Sam over everybody's heads. The devastation he felt was reflected back to him in Sam's eyes; he knew then that the only person who would truly understand his grief for losing was Sam.

Probably Artie and Tina too, but that was it. Blaine looked around at the newbies and realized that although they looked disappointed, they didn't look like they were grieving. They didn't know Finn, not really, and they wouldn't fully grasp his loss the way Blaine, Tina, Artie, and Sam did.

"Come on. Let's go get dinner somewhere and celebrate getting second place. That's still an accomplishment, guys! And I'll pay for desserts all around," Mr. Schue said.

Everyone nodded and followed him out. Blaine hung back, looking over his shoulder as they left the stage. Throat Explosion held up the trophy and grinned triumphantly, all of them jumping up and down and laughing with each other.

Then Blaine caught sight of Burt and Carole in the audience, and he was reminded again of the whole reason he wanted to win in the first place, and everything just felt so much worse.

Mr. Schue did his best to cheer everyone up at dinner, but it was clear that it wasn't working. Burt and Carole were there, still trying to build everyone up and insisting that Finn would be proud of them either way.

Blaine knew the truth, though. He knew that Finn would say he was proud, but in reality he'd be disappointed. Finn never liked losing. Not to other glee clubs, not to other football teams, not to other guys when it came to Rachel. Finn liked being on top, and he would've pulled on a brave face for the kids, but Blaine knew in reality Finn would've been upset.

He was distracted all through dinner, thinking of Finn. Not even just how disappointed he would've been, but the fact that he should've been there. The past month had been tough on Blaine. He'd never truly experienced grief until losing Finn, and now he was not only carrying his own grief, but Kurt's.

It felt like _so much _sometimes. Kurt would call him crying in the middle of the night and asking Blaine questions he could never answer. _Why did he have to die? And why so young? We didn't even get the chance to say goodbye, or say we loved each other. What if he never knew I loved him? Why did this have to happen? _All Blaine could do was stay on the phone with Kurt until he quieted down, and usually sing him to sleep.

The problem was that then Blaine would feel distressed, but he had no one to sing him to sleep. So he was left staying awake for the rest of the night, thinking about Finn and crying and wondering why bad things happen to good people and why tragedies happen to the innocent. He was only getting a few hours of sleep a night, and then he'd be up and at the school before 6 in the morning for one of his several clubs.

Twenty.

That's how many clubs he was in. Just thinking it as they rode the city bus back to their hotel made Blaine shudder, looking out the window at the LA streets. He was president of twelve of them, vice president of three, and treasurer of one. He was busy from 6am to 6pm, twelve hours straight every day.

Then when he got home in the evenings, he immediately sat down and began working on his homework. For all the senior and advanced courses he was taking, this usually lasted until 10 o'clock at night, at which point he'd take a shower and get in bed to skype with Kurt, which usually went until midnight.

And then Kurt would call him at about three in the morning and the whole process would repeat.

God, Blaine was exhausted.

"Blaine."

Blaine jumped and turned to Tina, who'd called him. She was looking at him expectantly.

"What?"

"I said we're all going to hang out in my room and watch _Braveheart _in honor of Finn and share our favorite stories about him. You should come, since you're one of the ones that'll actually have good stories to share."

"No, thank you, Tina," Blaine said, forcing a smile. "I think I'll just go back to my room."

"You sure, bro?" Sam asked.

Blaine nodded. "I'm sure. You guys go ahead, though. I may come by later."

"If you say so," Artie said.

Blaine parted ways with them in the hall, heading towards his room a few doors down as his friends funneled into the girls' room. He was glad to have his room that he'd been sharing with Sam and Artie to himself. He collapsed on the foot of the bed, letting his elbows fall on his knees and his head drop into his hands.

He dragged his head up slowly, letting his hands slide down his face. He groaned, slipping his fingers into his gelled hair and loosening it, grabbing fistfuls of curls and pulling.

The pain felt nice. He pulled harder, calming himself a bit.

It was bad and he knew it. Kurt had worked so hard with him to get him to recover from his self-harm. Once Kurt had found out about it when he transferred to Dalton, he'd done everything in his power to help Blaine overcome it. Their break up kind of screwed all that up, but it had been a couple months since Blaine had cut himself, and he knew he couldn't mess that up.

He tried to think back to Kurt's face when he'd first found out, because that's what usually helped him in these situations.

In retrospect, the way Kurt found out about his problem was the _worst _way imaginable. It was part of Blaine's worst nightmare, actually.

He'd been sitting on his dorm room floor at Dalton, legs loosely crossed in front of him. His shoes, socks, and slacks had been removed and were set out by his desk, ready to be put back on when he was done. His ankles were the easiest place to cut, because they were always hidden underneath his dress socks.

There was a knock on the door, and soon after Kurt's voice calling, "Blaine?"

"Um—yeah!" Blaine called back. He grabbed the washcloth he had set next to him, wiping over the blood. "I'm here! I'll, uh, be there in a second!"

As Blaine finished his sentence, the door opened and Kurt stepped into the room. He would never understand how he could've been so stupid as to leave the door unlocked that day. He _always _locked it when he cut. The one day he didn't was the one day he needed to the most.

Kurt didn't say anything at first, but Blaine could see it on his face once he'd assessed the situation. "Oh. _Blaine._"

"It's not what you think," Blaine rushed to say.

Kurt knelt down beside him and pulled the washcloth away from his ankle, sighing quietly. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Under the bed," Blaine muttered, not daring to meet Kurt's eyes.

Kurt got up and grabbed the first aid kit, bringing it over. He cleaned Blaine's cuts in silence, opening one of the bigger bandages from the box and placing it gingerly over them. Blaine had to admit, it felt kind of nice to be taken care of like that.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"A few years, since I was thirteen."

Kurt shook his head sadly. "I'm going to help you, Blaine. You're not going to do this anymore. Not with me in your life. Okay?"

Blaine had agreed, because it seemed like such a good deal. He'd get Kurt helping him, which would mean they'd grow closer and maybe form a relationship (which they did). And if Kurt was successful, then Blaine wouldn't feel so miserable all the time, and he wouldn't feel the need to cut just to calm his constant overload of emotions.

It kind of worked, in a way. They did grow closer, and Kurt did help him, but Blaine still struggled with his urges to cut himself nearly every day. Especially with how shitty his senior year had gone. He'd spent the past eight months cutting himself on and off, going a couple months clean and then ruining the progress and spending an entire month cutting every single day.

Now, with the loss of Nationals weighing heavily on his shoulders, on top of the grief he still felt over Finn's death, and his recent overwhelming schedule that seemed never-ending, he couldn't help but think of cutting. It was his permanent solution.

He made Kurt a promise, though, that whenever he felt the urge to cut, he'd text him. He'd been bad about keeping it lately with their break up, but now that they were back together, he couldn't just ignore it.

_We lost Nationals, _he texted, plain and simple.

He got up and started pacing around the room, tapping his hands on his thighs and trying to keep himself distracted.

His phone trilled with a text from Kurt. _Oh, baby. I'm sorry._

Blaine rubbed at his eyes.

_I just really wanted to win. For him._

He walked over to his suitcase in the corner, pulling out the disposable razor he'd brought to shave his face before competition that day. The blades were small, but they'd work. He just had to get them out of the plastic casing.

Kurt texted him back. _He'd still be proud of you, Blaine, I'm sure of it. Are you okay?_

Honesty was always best when it came to Kurt, so Blaine texted back a simple _No_ and took the razor into the bathroom with him. He looked around, trying to find something to break the plastic with. He settled on the mini-shampoo bottle. It was tiny, but with enough force it might work.

It didn't. He neglected his phone on the counter in the bathroom and instead went into the main room, looking around for something to break the razor with. The remote to the television would work fine. It was big enough, but he ran the risk of breaking the remote instead of the razor. Still, he had to try. So he brought it into the bathroom with him and smashed it down on top of the razor, over and over again until he heard a crack.

The remote still seemed to be intact, but the razor had shattered. Blaine sighed in relief and dropped the remote, fingers nimbly picking apart the plastic from the blades and freeing them. He grabbed the one with the least amount of rust and didn't hesitate before rolling up his sleeve and pressing down hard on his wrist.

The drag of the blade still stung the same as it did the first time, but it was a welcome pain. He reveled in it, body sagging in relief just after the first cut. He allowed himself to pause for a moment before repeating the process, again and again on his exposed skin. He'd never cut on his wrist before—it was too risky that someone would see. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Speaking of calling, Blaine noticed his phone vibrating on the counter, Kurt's picture displayed on his screen. He dropped the blade and picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

_"Blaine, honey, are you okay? I'm worried."_

"I'm fine now. It's okay. I'm sorry for worrying you."

_"What happened?"_

"Nothing."

Blaine had been surprised at how well he'd kept his voice even, but he and Kurt were so in tune that Kurt would notice the slightest upturn of a word or downward tone of a phrase.

_"Blaine, what happened?" _he asked again.

"Nothing, Kurt. Everything is fine." He knew it was pointless lying, especially when Kurt was going to see the cuts soon and find out, but he couldn't help it.

He heard Kurt sigh on the other end of the line. _"It's okay if you did something, but you need to be honest with me about it."_

Blaine leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. God, just when he'd been starting to feel calm and happy again, Kurt was ruining it. "Look, I don't want to talk about it. I feel better, okay?"

_"Damn it, Blaine," _Kurt said. _"You'd been doing so well. How long had it been?"_

Blaine opened his eyes and stared at his wrist, still lying on the counter top, bleeding. "Almost three months. I was trying to be better for Finn, even though he didn't know about it. But it kind of feels useless now that I let him down anyway."

_"You didn't let him down, honey. Finn loved winning, sure, but he loved the game more. He just loved being a part of something special. He was really just proud of you guys for making it to Nationals at all."_

"He said that, but we both know he wanted to win," Blaine said quietly.

The blood was running over the sides of his wrist and spilling onto the fake granite. He needed to clean it up, but he hadn't brought any of his first aid supplies with him.

Blaine jumped when he heard a key card in the door. He slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it as quickly as he could, but there was an immediate knock.

"Blaine, honey? It's Carole."

Blaine groaned. "God damn it, Kurt. You called them, didn't you?"

_"I didn't have a choice, Blaine. You said you weren't okay and then you didn't respond to my text or answer your phone."_

"For five minutes. Jesus."

"Sam and Burt are with me too," Carole added.

"Dear fucking Lord, the whole parade is here," Blaine muttered, banging his head against the wall. He called out to them, "I'm fine! Kurt worried you for nothing!"

_"Did you just lie to my parents?" _Kurt asked.

Blaine sighed. "Oh, my god."

He tore off a strip of toilet paper and wadded it up, squishing his phone between his cheek and his shoulder so he could hold the tissue to his wrist.

"Dude, can you please open the door?" Sam asked. "We just want to make sure you're okay."

"You're not in trouble, kid," Burt added.

_"Let them in, Blaine. Carole's a nurse. She can help you."_

"I don't need fucking stitches, Kurt, it's not even that bad."

_"Well how was I supposed to know? I'm trying to keep you safe."_

"I'm fine!"

_"You're bleeding, aren't you?"_

Blaine paused, clenching his jaw. "It's not that bad. It's, like, a few shallow cuts. They're not even deep."

"You should still let me take a look, Blaine," Carole said softly through the door.

"God, Kurt, now your entire family knows I cut myself."

"And me," Sam added quietly. "Bro, it's going to be fine, I promise. No one's judging you. We just want to help."

_"Would you please just let them in to help you?" _Kurt asked.

Blaine peeled back the tissue from his wrist, eyeing the cuts. They really weren't that bad, but blood immediately rushed to the surface again once they were in the open air. They'd keep bleeding unless he put a band-aid on them.

Reluctantly, he put Kurt on speakerphone and set him on the counter, going to open the door a crack. The three faces outside the door looked sad and concerned.

"It's not that bad," he said immediately.

Burt nodded. "It's okay, Blaine. We're not mad. We just want to help."

Blaine looked down. "I don't want you guys to see this."

"How about just me, then?" Carole offered. "At least let me make sure they're okay. I have band-aids in my purse."

"Fine," Blaine said, if only for the band-aids. He opened the door enough to let Carole in and then closed it again. Locking it seemed pointless now so he just left it unlocked.

Carole took his wrist in her hand and gently pulled the tissue away. He could see her face fall, but she schooled it quickly. Nurse training, he thought to himself.

_"What's happening?" _Kurt asked. _"Did you let them in?"_

"I'm here, Kurt. The cuts aren't bad," Carole said.

She set her purse on the counter and fished around, pulling out a mini tube of Neosporin and a big band-aid.

"How do you just have those on hand?" Blaine asked.

Carole shrugged. "I'm a mother."

She took care of his cuts, running them under the water before drying them with one of the small washcloths. She dabbed some Neosporin on them—(which stung a lot more than the actual cuts did)—and then opened the band-aid, placing it over all the cuts as best she could.

"He's all taken care of, Kurt," Carole said. "You've got nothing to worry about."

_"Oh, I have a lot to worry about, but I appreciate your help, Carole. Thank you."_

"Of course."

Someone knocked on the door, and then Burt was opening it, Sam poking his head in next to him.

"Are you guys okay in here?" Burt asked.

Carole patted Blaine's hand. "We're just fine."

"Good. Do you need to talk about anything, Blaine?"

Blaine shrunk against the wall. "No."

_"Blaine, please just be honest with them. I can't be there to help you and they're the next best thing. They'll understand, I promise."_

"They won't understand. There's no way they could."

"We could try," Sam offered.

"Unless you've ever felt so overwhelmed by your emotions that the only thing that calms you is picking up a blade and bleeding it out of your system, I don't think any of you are going to understand."

"I understand that, Blaine," Carole said. "I may not have done this to myself, but that doesn't mean I don't understand overwhelming emotions. Over the past month I've felt hopeless, angry, depressed. My entire life lately has been a constant barrage of emotions. Grief isn't easy for anybody, honey. But there are better ways to deal with it."

"It's not just about Finn," Blaine sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "It's about everything. About Finn, about losing Nationals, about senior year. It's like…everything bad in my life decided to build up and hit me all at once, and I don't know what to do."

Before Blaine even knew what was happening, Burt was pulling him into a hug. "You can come to us, Blaine. Always. Our home is always open to you, with or without Kurt around."

Blaine hesitated before hugging back, feeling awkward. "Thank you, Burt."

When they pulled away, Sam said, "And you can talk to me. We're supposed to be best friends, man. Why didn't you tell me about this?"

_"No one knew but me, Sam, don't feel bad," _Kurt said.

"Look, now that you know, I'll try to be open about it with you, okay?" Blaine asked. "Now can we all just drop this?"

Carole and Burt exchanged a look before Burt nodded and said, "For now. But when we get back home, you're going to sit down with the two of us and we're going to talk more about it. We can't let you go on with this, Blaine."

"Fine," Blaine said.

They each leaned in and gave him a hug before leaving him alone with Sam and Kurt on the phone.

"I really wish you would've told me, dude," Sam said.

Blaine looked down. "I don't like talking about it. It makes me feel weak."

"You're not weak, Blaine. You're hurting. There's a difference."

Blaine glanced back up, then took a step forward and enveloped Sam in a hug. "Thanks, Sam."

"No problem," Sam said, pulling away. "You don't mind if I chill in the room with you, do you?"

"Is it because you want to hang out with me or because you want to keep an eye on me?"

"Both."

_"Good answer," _Kurt said.

Blaine rolled his eyes, then shoved Sam lightly towards the door. "Alright, fine. But give me a minute."

Sam cast a worried glance over his shoulder but went out into the room. Blaine pushed the door to be cracked, not quite closed, and leaned his head against the wall. He took Kurt off speakerphone and brought the phone back to his ear.

"I can't believe you did that, Kurt. That was a total violation of my trust and my privacy."

_"And I'd do it again. I was not going to risk you bleeding out on the bathroom floor of a hotel in LA, Blaine. Your safety will always be my top priority."_

"You could've waited a few more minutes."

_"You could've answered your phone."_

"I'm sorry, I was a little busy slitting my wrist," Blaine snapped.

The second he said it he regretted it. He heard Kurt's shallow intake of breath on the other end of the line and wished he and Kurt were together so he could wrap his arms around him and apologize.

_"And that is exactly why I called them."_

Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry."

_"I know you are. The problem is that you're sorry because you said it, and not sorry because you did it."_

The words were too true for Blaine to try and deny it, so he just didn't say anything.

_"Blaine, what happened? You'd been doing so well."_

"I've just been overwhelmed. That's all. Senior year requires a lot of extra effort, and I'm in almost all the clubs at school, and now to have lost Finn and then lost Nationals when we wanted to win in his honor… It was just a lot. It all built up and I needed a release."

_"Why didn't you just call me? I could've talked you through it."_

"I didn't want to be talked through it, Kurt. I just wanted to do it."

Kurt paused, and then quietly said, _"Someday I hope it'll be the opposite. Until that day comes, I'm going to keep trying to help you. You can't push me away."_

"I wasn't trying to."

_"Good."_

"Good." Blaine looked over at the bloodied tissues and rag on the counter. "I really am sorry, Kurt. I tried."

_"I know, honey. It's not an overnight fix. And this was the longest you'd gone without cutting, right? That's progress. You're going to beat this, Blaine. I know you are."_

"I appreciate your faith in me."

_"I don't have faith in much, but I have faith in you."_

Despite everything, Blaine smiled. "I love you."

_"I love you too. I'm sorry you lost at Nationals."_

"Me too."

_"Go watch TV with Sam. Get your mind off of things. We'll talk more when you get back to Ohio, okay?"_

"Yeah, okay."

They exchanged I love yous again before hanging up. Blaine finally emerged from the bathroom, going to sit next to Sam on the bed where he was sitting up against the headboard.

"What are we watching?" Blaine asked.

"I was waiting for you to pick."

"I don't really care, honestly. I just don't want to think about anything for a while."

Sam flipped through the channels until he landed on Spike TV. "There we go."

"Perfect," Blaine said, smiling.

After a moment of silence, Sam said, "You know, Blaine, I may not have ever done to myself what you do, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about it. That's what I'm here for, you know? To talk to about that kind of stuff. The stuff you can't talk about with anyone else. We're bros."

"I know," Blaine nodded. "I'm sorry I never told you. It's not something I'm proud of."

"You don't have to be ashamed of it, either. Not around me."

"Okay, Sam." A beat passed, and then Blaine held out his fist. "Thank you."

Sam looked over and grinned, bumping his fist against Blaine's. "No problem, man."

They watched mind-numbing TV for a while, which helped a lot. Blaine still felt the sting of the cuts on his wrist, but he tried to ignore it. Kurt texted him a couple hours later to make sure he was still okay, and he assured Kurt he was.

Across the room, something caught Blaine's eye. The red drumsticks. It had come as a surprise to everyone that Sam brought them onstage, but Blaine was glad he had. It was a nice reminder of their friend, their fearless leader, and their constant source of encouragement.

Blaine knew he'd have a lot of reasons to relapse again in the future, but he knew now that he had an even better reason not to.


	33. Cuddle Me In

_Summary: When Kurt first transfers to Dalton and he and Blaine spend more time together than ever, Kurt starts to realize just how physically affectionate Blaine really is._

… … …

It takes a while for Kurt to stop jumping at every loud noise. Which isn't exactly ideal at a school full of rowdy teenage boys, but it is what it is. Kurt suffered a lot of bullying at McKinley, and that doesn't go away overnight.

Neither does his fear of touch. It seems like second nature for all the boys at Dalton to touch each other—a clap on the back or the shoulder, a fist bump, a smack on the arm. For a bunch of straight guys, they touch each other an awful lot. And it's fine, Kurt thinks, just something to get used to. It's different from the harsh shoves and punches thrown his way at McKinley. He just has to keep reminding himself that he's safe here, and that no one is intending to hurt him when they slap a hand to his upper back.

Blaine is both the worst and the best about this. He is almost _always _touching Kurt, but it's never as aggressive as the other boys. It's not a punch on the arm when he says something funny, it's hand on his thigh. It's not a clap on his back as a greeting, it's a kiss on his cheek.

Kurt doesn't know how he never realized it before, but Blaine is the most physically affectionate person he's ever met. Ever since Kurt has transferred to Dalton, he's been around Blaine a lot more, which means he's experienced the full extent of Blaine's friendship.

As Kurt walks down the hall to his next class, Blaine catches up next to him and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Hey!"

Kurt startles but tries to play it cool. "Hey."

"How's your day so far?" Blaine asks him, swinging their joined hands between them.

"It's been pretty good. Boring, but good."

"School in a nutshell," Blaine laughs.

Kurt nods. "Yeah, just about."

"So, hey, I was thinking after Warblers practice today, you could come to my room and we can watch a movie? We've been working so hard lately preparing for regionals, and I just want to have a relaxing weekend."

"That sounds good. What movie did you have in mind?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Blaine says, winking at him.

They arrive at Kurt's class and Blaine tugs on Kurt's hand to pull him in for a tight hug that lasts longer than Kurt's other hugs with his other friends. Then, when Blaine steps away, he kisses Kurt on the cheek before heading down the hall.

"So I'll see you later!"

Kurt nods, weak in the knees. "Y—yeah! Later!"

When he walks into his classroom, his teacher asks him if he needs to see the nurse, but he brushes her off and takes his seat. He's not ill. He's just in love with his best friend who is oddly overly-affectionate with his friends.

… … …

Blaine catches his eye multiple times through Warblers practice, grinning at him and making silly faces when Wes is talking. Kurt blushes every time and glances away, hoping Blaine won't notice. Every time they share a look Kurt feels a wave rush through his body from his scalp to his toenails. He always feels like he's on a roller coaster when he's around Blaine.

Finally, practice ends, and Blaine bounces over to him. "You ready?"

"Of course," Kurt says.

Blaine laces their fingers together again as they walk out together, earning them a round of catcalls.

"Hey, look, they finally got together!" Nick shouts at their backs.

Blaine glances over his shoulder and says, "Friends can hold hands, Nick! Get over yourselves!"

Kurt can't help the disappointment that weighs in his gut, but then Blaine turns back and smiles at him, squeezing his hand. "They're all idiots. I don't know why I bother being friends with them."

"Right," Kurt says, laughing nervously. "People need to learn that two gay guys can be friends without getting together."

"Exactly!"

They head up the stairs to the dorms, Blaine leading them to his room even though Kurt knows exactly where it is. They spend so much time there Kurt could probably find Blaine's room with his eyes closed easier than he could find his own.

"Ian went home for the weekend, so we get the room to ourselves! You can even sleep over in his bed if you want. I doubt he'll care or even notice, really."

"Great," Kurt tells him, smiling. He tries to make it look nonchalant but the look Blaine gives him tells him he didn't do a very good job.

"Right, so, I haven't actually picked a movie yet. I figured I'd let you do the honors."

"How generous."

"Oh, you know me. Ever the gentleman."

"It's almost not fair how true that is."

Blaine smiles. "My parents raised me with impeccable manners, what can I say?"

Kurt just shakes his head at him and laughs, going to where he knows Blaine's DVDs are and scanning the titles. "How about _Easy A?_"

"Always a good choice. Emma Stone is comedic gold."

"Her hair is reason enough to watch the movie."

"Very true."

Kurt stands and goes to put the DVD in. Blaine is laying back on his bed, ample space next to him for Kurt to join. When Kurt climbs onto the bed, Blaine immediately wraps and arm around Kurt's waist and brings him close, cuddling into him. His head falls into Kurt's chest and he hums in contentment.

It really shouldn't surprise Kurt at this point; Blaine does this every time they watch a movie together. And yet, it still catches him off guard. His breathing shallows and his heart thuds in his chest, which makes him even more nervous because Blaine's head is resting there and his arm is around Kurt's waist and Kurt knows that Blaine can feel every nervous habit Kurt has.

The DVD rolls through previews and hits the menu. Blaine lifts his head and reaches his arm over Kurt's body to reach the remote on the table behind him, making Blaine fall almost completely on top of Kurt's body.

When Blaine rolls back over and hits play, he raises his eyebrows at Kurt. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Kurt nods, smiling.

"Okay," Blaine says, cuddling back closely.

This is their every day. This is how Blaine is _all the time. _All kisses on the cheek and hand holding and cuddling and long, embracing hugs. If Kurt didn't know any better, he'd think he and Blaine had started a relationship and he just didn't get the memo.

But they didn't, Kurt's sure of it. Because even though they have almost all the benefits of being in a relationship without actually _being in a relationship_, there's one line Blaine's never crossed. He has never kissed Kurt on the lips. Which, wouldn't be so bad, Kurt muses. It would be nice to erase the last kiss he'd experienced.

Then again, that was probably why Blaine never crossed that line. That and the fact that kissing someone on the lips was something intimate that usually only couples did, and they're definitely not a couple.

Kurt has to always remind himself of that, because sometimes with the way Blaine treats him, he honestly forgets.

He tries to keep his feelings to himself, he really does. Even throughout the movie as Blaine lays his leg over Kurt's and nuzzles Kurt's chest, Kurt tries to stay calm. He tells himself that it's nothing; that Blaine is just a very physically affectionate person. More so than Kurt has ever met, but it still doesn't mean anything.

Or at least, Kurt tries to tell himself that. But there's only so much he can take. He's hopelessly head over heels for a guy who insists on treating him like a boyfriend and there's only so long that Kurt can ignore it.

After a few movies when they get ready for bed, Blaine offers to change in the bathroom and let Kurt have the bedroom, so Kurt changes into his pajamas and then stands awkwardly waiting for Blaine. He comes out of the bathroom just a minute later and smiles at Kurt.

"You're so cute in your pajamas all ready for bed," Blaine says.

Kurt looks down at his silk pajamas, blushing. "Thanks."

Blaine goes around the room doing various things before bed, so Kurt takes that as his sign to get in Ian's bed. He pulls the covers back and fluffs the pillow. Warm arms wrap around his waist from behind. "Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine says, kissing him on the cheek.

And that just does it. It just becomes too much. Kurt turns around in Blaine's arms and pushes him away slightly. "Blaine Anderson!"

Blaine's eyes go comically wide. "What? What did I do?"

"You have got to stop treating me like your boyfriend unless you intend to actually _make me your boyfriend_! You are toying with my emotions and it's not fair!"

"I didn't realize you felt that way," Blaine says slowly

Kurt takes a moment to think about what he just said and momentarily dies of embarrassment, but now that it's out in the open he can do nothing but stand by it. He takes a deep breath and nods. "Well, I do. I feel that way. So the next time you kiss me, it better be on the lips and you better mean it, damn it."

The words feel wrong coming out of his mouth, but he doesn't regret them.

Especially not with the way Blaine is looking at him.

"Okay," Blaine shrugs, stepping forward and grabbing Kurt's face and kissing him.

_On the lips._

Kurt dies on the spot, melting of happiness. Blaine moves his lips against Kurt's and he may not have a lot of experience to speak of but Kurt just instinctively _knows _how to kiss Blaine.

They part after a short time. Blaine smiles at him. "Better?"

"Much," Kurt breathes.

Blaine kisses him again and says, "Took you long enough. I thought you were never going to say anything."

"You—what?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were ready, Kurt. I thought if I was affectionate enough with you, you'd say something, and that would be my indication that you were either ready for a relationship or I should stop. I didn't want to push you into something you weren't ready for after what you went through with Karofsky at your old school."

"So…this was the plan all along?"

"Kind of," Blaine says, shrugging and smiling.

Kurt takes a page out of the book of the boys at Dalton and smacks Blaine on the arm. "Blaine!"

"Ouch! What?"

"Why couldn't you just say you had feelings for me? That would've worked too!"

"Hmm. I guess it would have. This was more fun, though." Blaine grabs Kurt's hand and threads their fingers together again. "Don't deny you loved it."

"I have half a mind to leave on principle."

"But you won't. Because then we won't be able to do this," Blaine says, leaning forward and capturing Kurt's lips again.

Kurt sighs into it, grabbing Blaine's face with his free hand and opening his mouth. Blaine smiles into the kiss and pulls away, looking completely self-satisfied.

"I hate you," Kurt tells him.

"You can't hate your boyfriend."

"I never agreed to be your boyfriend."

"You didn't have to. I already know you're going to say yes."

"Well, you won't know unless you ask me."

Blaine rolls his eyes fondly and says, "Fine. Kurt, will you be my boyfriend?"

"No. I hate you."

Blaine leans in and kisses Kurt again. Kurt can't help but think that every kiss is better than the last.

"How about now?" Blaine asks him.

Kurt sighs. "Okay, fine. I guess you've persuaded me."

"As if you needed persuasion."

"Yeah, yeah. Go get in bed; it's late," Kurt says, pushing Blaine towards his bed.

"Alright, alright," Blaine says, kissing Kurt once more before climbing in bed.

Kurt goes to turn off the lights, then gets in Ian's bed, settling in and smiling to himself. He can't believe he didn't catch on to Blaine's scheme quicker. It's so _Blaine _that it should've been obvious from the start.

"Goodnight, Blaine."

Kurt can hear the smile in Blaine's voice when he answers, "Goodnight, honey."

Kurt shakes his head and falls asleep smiling and thinking, _God, my boyfriend is such a loser._


	34. Help Me Get My Feet Back on the Ground

_Blaine struggling with BED or EDNOS, and Kurt reacts to Blaine and this physical manifestation of his insecurities and self-loathing. Kurt realises that his 'hero' isn't as strong as he had always perceived and that Blaine is the master of hiding his feelings. TW: Binge eating/eating disorders, anxiety, depression, suicide talk._

… … …

Kurt had been sure that after their talk, Blaine's eating would lessen. And it had, most of the time. They both decided to start a new diet and workout regimen together, and Blaine seemed ready to honor it. They went to the gym together, and when they went out to eat they both ordered salads or some entree from the lighter choices section.

Except sometimes Kurt would catch Blaine in the kitchen after date night, stuffing his face in the fridge like he was hiding it. Or they'd make a bag of popcorn for movie night, and Blaine would eat the whole thing in a matter of minutes, then apologize and go to make another bag and do the same thing.

It was starting to worry Kurt. He'd come to realize that Blaine's eating habits hadn't changed at all; he'd just gotten better at hiding it.

Which really didn't surprise Kurt, because Blaine had always been the master at hiding his emotions. Kurt knew it came from his home life, from the way his family didn't exactly encourage emotional expression. Blaine had even hid _that _well. It took Kurt a full year to hear Blaine even mention his family, and even longer for Blaine to be honest about them.

Kurt knew things would change when Blaine moved to New York. He wasn't foolish enough to think things would be as they were back in high school, and he didn't want them to be. He was proud of how far he'd come here and he didn't want to regress. At the same time, though, he had to be mindful of the fact that Blaine was still young, and he hadn't had the same time in the city that Kurt had.

It was hard moving somewhere new and being suddenly thrown into adulthood. Without the pressures of high school, there's so much encouragement at college to really explore your identity and who you are and who you want to be. Kurt had spent his freshman year branching out and actually performing men's songs, and not just things from Broadway.

He'd changed a lot. Kurt looked back on who he was even a year ago and he didn't recognize himself. And Blaine didn't handle change well. Kurt just had to be mindful of that, and patient.

Still, it was hard seeing Blaine so...lost. Kurt had gotten mad at Blaine for saying he wanted to be Kurt's knight in shining armor, but honestly, he kind of liked thinking of him that way. He just didn't like being thought of as _needing _someone in that way. If Blaine wanted to be the protector, that was fine, Kurt just wanted Blaine to know that he didn't _need _it, even if he did like it.

They came home quiet after dinner. Blaine let them into his apartment silently, gesturing for Kurt to go in first.

"Did you want to pick the movie tonight?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine shrugged. "No, that's okay. You can pick it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Kurt headed for the DVD collection under the TV, scanning the titles. He turned around with a suggestion only to find that Blaine wasn't in the room. "Blaine?"

"In here," Blaine called from the kitchen.

Kurt frowned as he stood up. "We just ate, babe, what are you doing?"

"Um...I'm just getting a drink."

Kurt knew what that meant. He walked into the kitchen and found Blaine sitting on top of the counter, a tub of ice cream in his lap and a spoonful in hand.

"Blaine, if you were still hungry, you could've just said so."

Blaine jumped, looking at Kurt. "Sorry. I just wanted something sweet."

"Well, put it away, I've got some movie options for us."

Blaine grimaced and stared down at his chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. "Um...Okay."

"Yeah?" Kurt asked. Blaine seemed pained at the idea of it.

"Yeah. I'll be in there in a second."

"Okay."

Kurt turned to leave, but paused just beside the doorway, waiting. And waiting. He kept waiting, and after several minutes passed, Kurt stepped into the kitchen again, finding Blaine with his hand in a bag of chips, stuffing his face.

He jumped again when Kurt came in the room, all wide eyes and hunched back.

"Blaine, what are you doing?"

Blaine paused. He looked down at the chips in his hands, then back up at Kurt. There was so much fear in his eyes that Kurt thought, not for the first time, that there was something so much bigger and worse going on than Blaine just enjoying junk food.

"I can't stop, Kurt," he whispered.

Kurt frowned. "Can't stop what?"

"_Eating._" Blaine paused, staring down at his food. "I can't stop. I... I'm not even hungry anymore. I was full after dinner, but I can't help myself. My stomach hurts and I feel like crying but I-I _can't_. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Okay," Kurt said, nodding. His own stomach was twisted in knots, drenched in anxiety. He took a few steps towards Blaine. "Alright, we're going to figure this out. Just give me the chips and we'll go sit on the couch and we can talk about it."

Kurt reached out for the chips and Blaine shied away, holding onto them. "I'm sorry. Kurt, I can't."

He plunged his hand back in the bag, grabbing another fistful and shoving them all in his mouth.

Something was wrong. Something was _very _wrong and Kurt didn't know what to do. He'd never encountered something like this. He knew about Santana's issues with eating in high school, but that was extreme starvation and purging. This was different. This was _over_-eating, and Kurt didn't even think there was a real name for it.

Watching the way Blaine continued stuffing his face with chips made Kurt's stomach lurch. His back was still hunched, and he was cowering away, afraid. Kurt took an experimental step towards Blaine, and Blaine took a step away. When the bag was empty, Blaine opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a take-away box, picking up the plastic fork still in there and digging into the fried rice.

It was painful to watch. Blaine's body language alone broke Kurt's heart. The way he tried to hide his actions, and tried to make himself smaller than he already was.

"Blaine," Kurt said softly. Blaine stilled, but only for a moment. "Honey, put the food away."

"_I can't._"

"You can." Kurt came over and gently pried the box from Blaine's hands, shutting the lid and putting it back in the refrigerator.

Blaine fidgeted, opening and closing his hand, torn between going for the handle of the refrigerator door and not touching it at all.

"Tell me what's going on with you," Kurt said. "Talk to me, Blaine. Please. I want to understand."

"_I _don't understand. I can't stop eating, Kurt. It's the only thing that makes me feel okay anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"It's like... I have all of this anxiety, every day. I never know what I'm doing in my classes or at NYADA in general, I don't know how to be around you or your new friends, I don't know what to do with my free time. I'm a barely functioning adult and I have _no idea _what I'm doing here." His voice cracked and tears that Kurt hadn't noticed in Blaine's eyes spilled over. "You are so set in your identity here, and your life, and I just feel like...I have jumped off of the roof of a building and I am flailing on my way down, realizing what a mistake it was to jump in the first place."

Kurt's heart stuttered in his chest and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. "Okay, your suicide metaphor isn't helping." Blaine glanced down, avoiding Kurt's eyes. "Neither is your refusal to look at me."

He placed his hand under Blaine's chin and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. "Blaine, honey, it's going to be okay."

"Is it? Because lately I've only felt okay when I'm eating, and then once I've started I can't stop and even that doesn't feel okay anymore. I'm not hungry, Kurt, and yet I can't stop eating. I am stuffing my stomach full with food that sometimes, I don't even _like, _just because it's a way for me to feel...whole, or complete, in a way."

"So you're saying you feel empty? And food helps you fill that feeling?" Kurt asked carefully.

Blaine sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. I...I feel ashamed of this. I've been trying to hide it from you."

"Like you hide everything else from me?" Blaine looked away and nodded. "Blaine, I thought we were past this."

"I guess not."

It occurred to Kurt, then, that there was probably a lot more going on under the surface than Blaine had been letting on. There was no way someone got to this point without a _lot _of stress piling on. Kurt thought he understood Blaine's pain, and his stress over moving to New York, but now he didn't know what to think.

Blaine-Kurt's strong, determined, bright, and confident Blaine-was utterly unrecognizable, standing in that kitchen with his side glued to the fridge like he was scared to leave it.

"You've been doing a lot worse here than you've been letting on with me, haven't you?"

After a pause, Blaine nodded. "I hate it here, Kurt," he whispered. "I feel like I'm drowning. There's always so much going on, and there are so many people, and I just feel lost. I don't even know who I am anymore, or what I'm doing here. I'm questioning every move I make. I don't even know if I want to _perform _anymore. I've wanted to be a performer since I was three and now I'm not even sure about that."

"Okay, so you don't know what you want to do. That's fine. No one has their life figured out at eighteen, Blaine. Or nineteen, or twenty, or even twenty-five. The secret to adulthood is that you will always be just as lost in your late twenties as you are in your early twenties."

"That's not encouraging."

Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's bicep and said, "I'm trying to tell you that it's okay if you don't have everything figured out. No one ever does."

"You do," Blaine said, kicking at the kitchen floor with his feet.

"I really don't. It may seem like I do, but that's just because I've learned how to navigate that lost feeling. You'll find your footing, I promise."

Blaine looked up at him, eyes wet and red-rimmed. "What if I don't? What if I never find my footing? What if I always feel lost here? What if New York is your home, but it's not mine?"

"Then we'll deal with that when we get there. _Together. _But you've only been here for a few months. It takes at least a year to get used to a new environment, usually two. Moving is hard for anyone, especially at our age."

"I just don't know what to do anymore."

Kurt pulled Blaine in for a hug, holding tightly. He didn't say anything when Blaine's fingers dug a little too harshly into his back, because he knew Blaine needed the outlet.

When they pulled away, Kurt forced Blaine to look at him and said, "First, I think we need to address this eating issue. This isn't normal, and it's really worrying me."

"I looked it up," Blaine said quietly. "I searched the web for why I can't stop eating even when I'm full, and this quiz came up, so I took it. I scored 41 out of 46 and showed severe binge eating behaviors."

"So what does that mean?" Kurt asked.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know, but I can't keep going like this. I feel out of control of everything in my life and...Kurt, I don't know what I'm going to do to try and get that control back, but I know it's not going to be good if I don't figure something out soon."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face in both of his hands and kissed him, deep and slow. They usually communicated better when neither of them were speaking, so Kurt tried to tell Blaine all the things he was feeling with the kiss.

When they pulled away, Kurt could tell Blaine understood.

"We're going to get through this," Kurt told him. "We're going to figure this out. But I need you to talk to me, okay? Don't hide from me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"I hate everything about myself," Blaine muttered.

Kurt's heart dropped to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders and held on tight. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to _love _everything about you, and I won't rest until I've convinced you to feel the same."

Blaine sagged against Kurt's body, his arms wrapped around Kurt's waist securely.

"Maybe we can talk to Santana," Kurt offered. "She had eating issues in high school. Maybe she'll know more about it, and what we can do or who we can talk to."

"Yeah," Blaine said, nodding on Kurt's shoulder. "We can do that."

"No matter what, we are going to get through this. I will be here for you every step of the way and we are going to find a solution to this." Kurt pulled away to look at Blaine and continued. "You have to be open with me, though, okay? I don't want you to keep feeling ashamed or insecure around me. I'm supposed to be your safe space."

"Okay," Blaine said. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask."

Kurt wiped his thumbs over Blaine's cheeks, rubbing the knuckles of his index finger under Blaine's eyelashes and swiping away the tears. "I'm here for you, Blaine. Always."

Blaine tilted their foreheads together, hands still gripping Kurt's waist. "I love you. I don't… If I didn't have you in my life, I don't know where I'd be right now."

"Don't worry about that, because you have me, and I'm not going anywhere. No matter what." Kurt took in a deep breath and sang softly, "_Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I love you…_"

"_Until the end of time_," Blaine joined, harmonizing with Kurt.

Kurt smiled when he pulled away. "Exactly. Until the end of time."

"You promise?"

"I promise. Blaine Devon Anderson, I agreed to marry you, and I meant it. You and I are forever. Every issue that comes our way, we face it together. That's the deal. You want out now, you better say so."

Blaine smiled slightly and leaned in for a kiss. "Not a chance. I hate to say it, but you're locked in with me for life, babe."

Kurt snapped and made a disappointed face. "Oh, darn!"

"Shut up and come here."

"Gladly," Kurt said, kissing him again.

Later that night, Blaine fell asleep almost the second his head hit the pillow. Kurt lay with his head perched up, watching Blaine sleep. He drew a finger down Blaine's chest. Just feeling Blaine lying beside him, solid and warm, was enough to put to rest any anxiety Kurt felt. He knew the same wasn't as effective for Blaine and wished there were more he could do.

He'd seen Blaine vulnerable before in high school, but this was different. This was something so much darker, and deeper, than anything they'd encountered back in Ohio. Their lives had suddenly gotten real—and when had that happened? Kurt hated seeing Blaine like this, so small and hopeless. But he knew that if there was anybody strong enough to get through it, it would be Blaine.

And Kurt would do everything in his power to help him.


	35. Power

_Kurt develops an eating disorder from the stress at Dalton, and Carole finds out and confronts him about it. TW: eating disorder_

… … …

Kurt prided himself on being an exceptionally self-aware person.

A lot of people lived with their heads in clouds of ignorance, content to ignore the things about themselves that most needed attention. These people were usually assholes, Kurt had come to find. In order to be a good, well-rounded person, you had to be aware of your flaws and actively seeking to improve.

For example, Kurt knew that he could be a little on the pretentious side. It came with having high standards in every aspect of his life. He was very aesthetically focused, and he recognized that. These standards even applied to him, so it wasn't like he was judging everyone else around him while he was a total slob. He expected perfection from everyone, including himself.

That was his downfall, he knew. The root of a majority of his problems. He was _aware _of it, though, so it was fine.

Kurt was _aware _that starving himself was a problem, so it was fine. The bigger problem, though, was the way he looked, and that needed improving above all else. The starvation, therefore, was justified.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

"Is that all you're eating?" Blaine asked him at lunch.

Kurt looked at the place in front of him on the table, where only an apple sat. "Yeah, I'm just not very hungry, I guess."

"Are you sure? You can have some of mine," Blaine told him, scooting his tray over.

"No, no, that's okay. I'm fine," Kurt insisted. He took a bite of his apple and smiled. "See?"

If it were up to him, he wouldn't eat anything at all. Of course, for appearance's sake, he had to eat _something _at every meal, even if it was just an apple at lunch or a cup of green beans at dinner. Sometimes that wouldn't pass, and he'd have to get a whole meal on his tray. When that happened, he'd push his food around his tray and engage really eagerly in conversation. People didn't even notice that he never ate a bite of it.

It wasn't that Kurt was unhappy, per say. He just wasn't…happy, either.

He'd been ignoring all the stress he was under—brushing it off and acting like it didn't bother him. He knew sooner or later, it would catch up to him. The locker shoves, the dumpster tosses, the muttered insults, the unwanted kisses in locker rooms. Kurt's sense of security, of safety, of control had been taken from him.

This was how he got it back.

His stomach gnawed at him, begging him to take Blaine's offer and share his lunch—no, eat his entire lunch—no, eat everything in the cafeteria.

Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had a full meal. He tried to think back, but his mind was in a constant fuzzy state these days. He couldn't even remember yesterday, much less back far enough to when he'd eaten more than a couple pieces of fruit in a day.

When he stood up from the table, the world tilted on its axis. He leaned his hands forward on the back of his chair to steady himself for a moment.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked.

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded, smiling when he opened them. "I'm fine, I promise. Just a little dizzy when I stood up, that's all."

"Maybe you're getting sick. I can take you to the nurse."

"No!" Kurt snapped. It came out harsher than he intended and the whole table stopped to stare at him. "I mean, no, that's okay. I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine."

"If you don't want to go to the nurse, you could go lie down in your room."

Kurt laughed and placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Your concern is touching, but I'm really okay. I'll see you in class?"

"Sure, yeah, I'll see you later."

Kurt started walking towards the exit of the cafeteria, but after just a few steps he felt winded. He needed something to lean against, but there was nothing. He was in the center of the room. This happened every so often, and he usually pushed through it, so he shook his head and continued walking.

Then the edges of the room blurred and darkness closed in. Kurt was out before he even hit the ground.

… … …

When he came to, he was in a room he didn't recognize. White walls, tiled floor, and a beige curtain around him. At first he thought he was in a hospital, but the cup of water to his left on a table had the Dalton insignia on it.

The curtain was pulled back and Blaine was there, his face etched with worry. He sat on the edge of Kurt's bed and smoothed his features, smiling.

"Hey, you. I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"What happened?"

"You passed out in the cafeteria. I tried to tell you to go to the nurse, but you didn't listen, and now you don't have a choice. You're here. Deal with it."

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed to sit up. "You're a pain, you know that?"

"And yet you continue our friendship," Blaine said.

"I wonder why every day."

"Lies. I'm your best friend."

"Unfortunately."

Blaine shoved Kurt a little, laughing. "Shut up. Be nice to me, I carried you all the way here."

"You really didn't have to," Kurt told him. "But I appreciate it all the same."

The school nurse came in then, a middle-aged plump woman with kind eyes and glasses. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Kurt said.

"I've brought you chips and orange juice to bump up your blood sugar," she said, holding them out to him.

Kurt tensed, then forced a smile. "Thank you so much, but I think Blaine was right. I really am getting sick. Would it be possible for you to write me a note so I can go rest in my room? I'm feeling a little nauseas and tired and I feel a cold coming on."

"Sure thing."

Blaine gave him an odd look. "Are you sure there's not something else going on?"

"What else would be going on?"

"I don't know, you've just been acting kind of weird lately.

"Well, I'm fine," Kurt said, shrugging.

"If you say so."

The nurse returned with a note for Kurt, so he took the chips and orange juice with him to his room. Blaine wanted to join him, but Kurt insisted he could get there on his own.

He threw the food away the second he got back to his room, hiding it under a pile of papers. Then, he crawled into his bed and turned on his TV, watching _Say Yes to the Dress. _His phone buzzed a couple minutes later with a text from Blaine making sure he got to his room okay and didn't pass out on the way, so Kurt sent him back a text and assured him that all was well.

While he had his phone, Kurt went ahead and sent his dad a text to make sure they were still good for him to visit this weekend. His dad didn't reply until a couple hours later, and all it said was _yes. _

Kurt managed to make it through the rest of the week without any fainting, which was good. He kept up not eating as he always had, and when Blaine commented on it at the table in the cafeteria, he said it was because he was nauseas from being sick. He almost wished he pretended to be sick more often, but that would probably be even more suspicious than just not eating much.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, both his dad and Carole came to pick him up.

"Hey, guys," Kurt said, forcing a smile.

He found that recently, all of his smiles had to be forced.

His dad patted him on the back, while Carole chose to step in and hug him. She was frowning when she pulled away.

"Honey, you've gotten so thin. Are they feeding you okay here?"

"Oh, yeah, it's been great. The food here is really good. I don't know, I didn't think I'd lost any weight. I guess it's just stress."

That was an understatement.

Carole still looked skeptical but she let it go. "Alright, well, Finn is waiting at home with Puck in hopes you'll want to play video games with them tonight, so we should probably get going."

"Now, Kurt, I told them you probably wouldn't want to play, but they insisted, so try and let them down easy, okay? I think Finn just misses you," his dad said.

Kurt nodded as he got in the backseat, his parents climbing back into the car too. "Yeah, alright, Dad. Maybe a couple rounds won't be so bad."

"Really? Finn would love that," Carole said.

Burt and Carole continued to ask Kurt questions the entire ride home—about school, and Warblers, and friends. Kurt answered all of them enthusiastically, sharing more than necessary and giving them little anecdotes. It was going to drain all of his energy and he'd probably need to nap the second he got home, but it was worth it. If he actively volunteered information about his life, they wouldn't feel the need to ask further.

Finn did ask him to play video games when he got home, with both Puck and Mike sitting on the couch next to him. Kurt agreed to play a couple rounds and then excused himself upstairs to get to work on a paper he had due on Monday.

In actuality, the second he got to his room, he passed out on his bed.

… … …

"Kurt? Kurt, honey, are you awake?"

Kurt groaned, rolling over in bed and squinting his eyes open. "Carole?"

"Yeah. We called you down for dinner, but you didn't answer, so I thought I'd come check on you. Are you doing okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I've just been super busy with papers and homework from Dalton. It's a lot harder than McKinley. Surprise, surprise." He smiled.

Carole narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright, well, dinner's ready so why don't you come down?"

"That's okay, I'm not that hungry."

"Kurt, you have to eat."

"No, really, I'm fine. I ate just before we left Dalton."

Carole hesitated before nodding. "Alright. But if you get hungry later, you let me know. I'll reheat a plate of lasagna for you."

"Sounds good," Kurt said, mouth watering. God, lasagna sounded _delicious _right now.

But no. He had to be strong. This was his way of taking command of his life. _He _decided when he ate, and _he _decided how much he weighed, and _he _decided if he starved himself for so long he passed out. It was his decision, his control, his power. And he wasn't going to let stupid, tempting, savory lasagna ruin that.

Except it wasn't just lasagna. It was the pancakes and bacon and eggs the next morning at breakfast, and the grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup at lunch, and the supreme pizzas at dinner. There were only so many excuses Kurt could use. At breakfast, he said he just didn't eat breakfast anymore, which was simple enough. A lot of people skipped breakfast. His family frowned but let it go. At lunch, he lied and said he'd snuck a snack earlier in the day when no one was in the kitchen and was still full from that. Again, odd looks, but a dismissal all the same.

It was at dinner on Saturday night that it was a genuine problem. He'd gone out earlier in the day—just to go for a walk around the neighborhood—but he lied and said he got food while he was out. Finn and Burt were content to believe it, but Carole narrowed her eyes at him.

"You know, Kurt, even if you're not hungry, you're here to spend time with your family. You could at least sit at the table with us."

Kurt sighed. "Okay."

He knew that rocking the boat would only make things worse. He could sit at the table, mess around with the toppings on his pizza and pretend to eat. He did it at Dalton all the time, just with different foods.

Dalton didn't have Carole, though, who was watching him like a hawk and insisting he take a bite every few minutes.

"Kurt, you've hardly touched your pizza."

"I'm just not hungry."

"You can take a few bites, hon."

"I said I'm not hungry," Kurt snapped.

Burt stared at him. "Kurt, what is wrong with you? Don't speak to Carole like that. Eat your damn pizza."

Kurt pushed back from the table and stood. "I'm not hungry, okay? You guys can't make me eat if I'm not hungry. Just leave me alone about it."

He headed up to his room and slammed the door, sitting on the edge of his bed. God, he'd messed up. Carole was already onto him and he'd just aggravated the whole situation. She was going to come up here and demand answers and she'd find out and everything would be ruined. All over a few bites of pizza.

There was a knock on the door, almost on cue. Kurt groaned. "Go away."

The door opened and Carole stepped in, shutting it behind her. "I think you and I need to have a conversation."

"I'd really rather not. Look, I know what you're probably thinking, but I'm just really stressed at Dalton and there's nothing more to it. The workload is more than I was expecting, that's all. But I'm adjusting and everything is fine."

"Maybe if you're having such a hard time, we should transfer you back to McKinley," Carole said.

She was clearly testing him, he could tell. He wasn't going to give in, though, so he tried to keep calm and said, "I don't think that's necessary. Like I said, I'm adjusting. It's only the first month. I just need more time there to get used to everything."

Carole stepped toward him and stood in front of him, arms crossed. "Kurt, we both know what's really going on here. You can be honest with me about it."

"About what?"

"You're not eating," Carole said simply. The words made Kurt flinch. "I don't know how long this has been going on, or the severity of the problem, but I'm putting an end to it now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Denial won't change anything, Kurt. I just wanted to come up here and see if you'd open up to me, but it seems that you're going to take the difficult route, which is fine. But I'm going to go downstairs right now and talk to your father about this. Whether you want it or not, you need help."

She turned to leave and Kurt panicked. He jumped off the bed and immediately his head swam. He shook it off, though, and followed her out of his room. Anything to stop his dad from finding out.

He stopped at the top of the stairs and said, "No, wait, Carole—"

"You're not going to change my mind about this, honey. Your dad needs to know." She made it to the end of the stairs and turned to go into the kitchen.

Kurt cursed and headed down the stairs, running down them. His heel slipped halfway down and he fell backwards, blacking out.

… … …

When Kurt woke up, the first thing he realized was that he actually _was _in a hospital this time. There was an IV hooked into his arm on the inside of his elbow. He frowned at it, looking around the room. "What the hell?"

"Look who's awake," his dad said, sitting in the chair by his bed.

Kurt sat up. "What am I doing here?"

"You passed out running down the stairs," Burt told him. "I thought you might've hit your head on the wood when you fell and that's why you passed out, which is why we brought you here, but Carole and the doctors have since informed me of the fact that you haven't been eating, and we realized that you actually passed out before you even hit the stairs."

Kurt groaned. "Dad, I don't know what they told you, but—"

"Cut the crap, Kurt." Burt took off his baseball cap and rubbed a hand over his head. "What were you thinking, son? What's been going on with you? They told me you're so malnourished and emaciated that this could've been a lot more serious. You know you could've fallen into a coma."

"Wouldn't that have been ironic," Kurt muttered.

"Don't play about this! This is serious, Kurt! Tell me what's been going on with you!"

"Nothing! Oh my god, people need to learn to mind their own business. I'm fine."

"This isn't fine!" his dad shouted, standing and gesturing to Kurt in the bed. "Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? Kid, you look like you just escaped Auschwitz. And your friend Blaine came by, and he said you passed out at school, too. This isn't okay, Kurt."

Kurt fell back on the pillows of his hospital bed and sighed, covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Well it is. So you need to start talking, because I just feel really lost here."

Kurt peeked through his hands and looked at his dad—really looked—and noticed the way his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "Dad, have you—have you been crying?"

"When the doctors tell me my son has been starving himself to death, what else do you think I'm gonna do?"

"It's not that serious," Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes.

"It _is _that serious! If you had hit your head harder when you fell, you could have fallen into a coma. Your body doesn't have enough energy to keep you conscious on a normal day, much less keep you conscious after a concussion."

"So, what do you want from me? You want me to cry and spill all my secrets and apologize for being such a horrible son?"

"I want you to tell me the truth, Kurt. Explain to me why you've been doing this."

Kurt looked away, staring down at the blankets. "I can't."

After a long pause, Burt said, "Then I'm going to have to find someone you can explain it to."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're going to therapy."

"Wait, no, I am _not _going to therapy."

"It's the only option we have left, Kurt! You won't talk to Carole, you won't talk to me, you won't talk to Blaine. You have to talk to _someone_, because obviously there's something going on here."

Kurt shook his head and clenched his jaw. "Can I have some time alone, please?"

"Fine. I'm gonna go get some coffee from the machine down the hall and give you some time to think this over. But you _will _be going to therapy. And I'm gonna call that Blaine kid, have a talk with him about keeping an eye on you at school. I have half a mind to just pull you out entirely and move you home—"

"No!"

"But I'm not doin' that, because Carole and I have put a lot of money towards you being at that school and I still don't like the way McKinley handled your situation with that Karofsky guy."

Kurt took in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. "Fine. Whatever."

His dad left without another word. Kurt grabbed his pillow from behind him and brought it in front of him, slamming it into his face and screaming.

He couldn't believe this. He'd been doing so well—no one had even _noticed _until he went home. He wanted to blame it on Carole, but he knew deep down that that wasn't fair. This was all on him and his own stupidity and petulance.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, taking shaky steps as he held onto his IV rod and walked into the bathroom. The hospital gown he was in covered most of his body. He shut the door behind him and slipped it off, staring at himself. He didn't have any idea what his dad was talking about. He was able to pinch and pull countless pockets of fat, grimacing and feeling worse after every one of them.

Everything was so screwed up. He'd been doing so well and now he was going to be pushed into fucking _therapy _and everything he'd worked so hard to create would be torn down. His power, his control, all of it was gone.

Unless…

It didn't have to be. His dad had been forceful, sure, but Kurt could see the fear in his eyes. He saw it in Carole's, too. There was room for him to take control of the situation again. After all, it was his problem. He could dictate how it was handled, within reason. They may not let him skip therapy completely, but he'd be able to choose the therapist. He knew his dad felt helpless in the situation—he'd said as much just a few minutes ago. Which meant Kurt could basically guide what happened next, if he played it right.

Everything could still be in his control. Under his power.

He took a deep breath and went back into the room, climbing back in his bed and flipping on the television. When his dad came back, Kurt immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Kurt said. "I was just…caught off-guard. I never wanted anyone to find out about this, obviously, but I'm willing to get help."

Burt narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. But I think I'd rather go to a group therapy, if that's okay. Being around other people who understand would help me better, I think."

Carole came into the room, then, looking between them. "Is everything alright?"

"Kurt says he'll get help, but he wants it to be group therapy. Says it'll help him more."

"That's actually not a bad idea. A lot of kids his age with problems like his benefit from being around people who understand them."

"That's what I said!" Kurt told her.

Carole and Burt shared a look before they both nodded and turned to him.

"Alright," Burt said, "we'll try the group therapy. But if I don't see you getting better soon, we're trying something different."

"Fair enough," Kurt said.

It wouldn't be necessary, though. He knew _exactly _how to play it. His parents had already fallen for it, after all. How much different could it be?

… … …

He was discharged from the hospital a couple days later, which meant he didn't get back to Dalton until Tuesday night.

Blaine came by his room the second he got back, worried about Kurt after having spoken with Kurt's dad about everything that happened. Kurt played his part well, acting remorseful and sad but determined to get better. Even Blaine fell for it.

"I'm just concerned that you wouldn't share this with me," Blaine said, holding Kurt's hand in both of his as they sat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "I could've helped you."

"I didn't want help, at the time. But after ending up in the hospital, I realize that this problem has gotten more out of control than I wanted to admit." Wrong. So wrong. He'd never been more in control. "I'm getting help now, though. There's this group therapy for kids with issues like mine that I'm gonna have to go to every Friday night now. Which, unfortunately, means no more Friday movie nights for us."

"Oh, Kurt, don't even worry about that. I'm just glad you're going to get better," Blaine told him, pulling him in for a hug.

This was almost too easy.

Kurt smiled over Blaine's shoulder, and for the first time in a while it wasn't forced. He felt stronger than ever, now, and the thought made his stomach flip. He almost laughed, just out of pure joy, but managed to hold it in so Blaine wouldn't catch on.

Kurt had more power than ever, now, and there was no way he was going to give that up.


	36. All Our Children

_marzcrisscolfer prompted "could you write a fix about the future? Like when Klaine is married and their kids are teenagers or something and they do something that causes Klaine to fight about it? You seem to be like the only author who can actually write about anything so I was just wondering. Thanks :)"_

_You're such a sweetheart! Thank you so much! This prompt was a lot of fun to write :)_

… … …

"Okay, I think that maybe we just ought to calm down."

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_?"

"Freaking out isn't going to help anything, Kurt."

"We are on our way, in our pajamas, in the middle of the night to pick up our daughter from a party because she is _too drunk _to drive herself home."

"At least she was smart about it and called us, instead of actually trying to drive home."

Kurt glanced over at Blaine from behind the steering wheel, shooting daggers at him. "That doesn't make this any better."

"I think it does. She could've made a really serious, life-threatening mistake tonight, but she chose to trust us enough to call us when she found herself in a difficult situation. We should keep that in mind," Blaine said as they pulled into the driveway of the house the party had been at.

Rebecca sat on the front porch steps, leaning against the railing.

"We should also keep in mind that Zachary is at home right now, sleeping, after an evening of doing homework and filling out college applications. Whereas Rebecca is sitting on those porch steps wasted and looking about two seconds away from puking. I am _not _letting this slide just because she made _one _good decision after a series of horrible ones."

Kurt shot Blaine another stern look before getting out of the car. Blaine stayed put, searching for something to give his daughter so she wouldn't throw up all over their backseat. He found an old fast food bag and threw the trash out on the floor, holding it out to Kurt through the backdoor, who was coaxing Rebecca into the car.

"Here. So she doesn't throw up on the seats."

Once Rebecca was seated behind Blaine, Kurt took the bag and gave it to her. "Don't you dare throw up on these seats, do you hear me?"

"Yeah, Dad, gosh," she moaned, eyes closed. She sagged forward and leaned her forehead on the back of Blaine's seat.

"How do you feel?" Blaine asked her as Kurt went around to the other side of the car.

"There's... I just did the... It's not bad, it's a little drunk, I'm not even that bad," she slurred.

Blaine sighed. Kurt got back in the car and pulled out of the driveway, exchanging a look with his husband. No one spoke on the drive home and they kept the radio off. The only noise was Rebecca throwing up in the backseat.

When Kurt turned onto their street, he said, "Please tell me she kept it in the bag."

Blaine glanced back. There wasn't anything on the car, but there was some on her legs and her shirt. "For the most part," Blaine reported.

"Good enough, I guess."

Blaine was the first one out of the car, opening the back door and tugging on Rebecca's shoulders. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's get you in bed."

"Don't baby her, Blaine."

"She's our child."

"Our _drunk _child."

"Can we have this fight later, Kurt? I just want to get her in the house and in bed."

"Fine."

Rebecca pouted as Blaine guided her to the house, making sure she didn't trip on the flowers or brick path to the front door. "Don't fight. All of my friends' parents fight all the time. You guys are supposed to be the fun parents. I brag about you all the time. I say-I say, you guys, my dads still love each other over twenty years after they got together! They fell in love in _high school _and they've _made it. _No one does that anymore. You can't ruin that!"

"We're fine, Rebecca, there's nothing to worry about," Blaine told her.

She started crying once they stepped into the house, looking up at Blaine. "Are you guys gonna get a divorce because of me?"

"We're not going to get a divorce at all," Kurt said. "Your Papa and I love each other very much, okay?"

It didn't ease her worries at all. If anything, she started crying harder. "I just-I just love you guys so much. You're like the best parents in the world. You don't beat me or starve me or anything. You guys, like, deserve an award."

"I hardly think the fact that we don't abuse you deserves an award," Kurt said dryly.

Blaine gave him a look. "Could you not right now?"

Kurt threw his hands in the air. "Not what?!"

"Just give it a rest!"

"For god's sake, Blaine, just get her in bed," Kurt snapped, heading down the hall to their room.

Blaine rolled his eyes and helped Rebecca up the stairs. "Come on. Let's get you in bed."

"Is Dad mad at you?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. I'm mad at him too."

"Why?"

"We just disagree on things sometimes, that's all."

Knowing that Rebecca was _way _past the age where it would be acceptable to change her into her pajamas, he settled for taking off her heels and coaxing her under her covers in the clothes she was wearing, even if they did have vomit on them.

She laid on her back and Blaine had to coax her onto her right side, brushing her hair from her neck. "You have to lie on your side, Bex. I don't want you choking on your own throw up in the middle of the night and dying."

"Can that happen?" she moaned. "I don't want to die."

She got more comfortable on her side, snoring almost immediately.

Blaine watched her for a few minutes at the door before heading back downstairs to his room, where Kurt was already back in bed, lights off.

"She okay?" he asked.

"She's fine," Blaine told him, climbing in on the left side of the bed. Even though Kurt was facing away from him-which was usually a sign that Kurt didn't want to cuddle-Blaine scooted up behind him and draped an arm over his waist. "I made sure she's on her side."

Kurt hesitated for a minute, then said, "Good." He didn't cuddle backwards into Blaine's embrace like usual, but he did lift his arm to lay over Blaine's and placed his hand over Blaine's locking his fingers through Blaine's.

They slept in longer the next morning, partly because it was Saturday and they could and partly because they'd had to get up in the middle of the night for Rebecca.

When the sun got to be shining too brightly through the window, Blaine untangled himself from Kurt and sat up, running a hand over his face.

"What time is it?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine looked at the alarm clock on Kurt's side of the bed. "Half past nine."

Kurt groaned, rolling over and sitting up next to Blaine. "We should get up."

"I'm already up," Blaine said coldly, getting off the bed and walking towards their bathroom.

He grabbed his toothbrush from the holder on the sink and squirted toothpaste on it, running it under the tap before brushing his teeth. He watched Kurt come up behind him in the mirror and grab his own toothbrush, to Blaine grabbed the tube of toothpaste and squirted a dab onto Kurt's toothbrush.

"Thanks," Kurt said flatly.

After Blaine had brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out, he looked at Kurt and said, "Are we really going to have this fight? Seriously?"

Kurt spit a mouthful of toothpaste in the sink. "She is sixteen years old, Blaine. She knew the mistake she was making going to that party and drinking alcohol. I'm not going to baby her. She deserves to be punished for this."

"I'm not arguing against that, I'm just saying that maybe a little recognition of her decision to call us instead of driving last night would be a good idea. We need to set a good example for her and for Zachary that they can trust us in situations like that. Their safety needs to be our top priority."

"They already know they can trust us. Zachary doesn't have problems like these but I'm sure he knows, and Rebecca obviously knows or else she wouldn't call us. What, are we going to give her a gold star for not drunk driving? If that's the case let's give Zachary a gold star for not getting his girlfriend pregnant."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"It's exactly what you're saying." Kurt stuck the toothbrush back in his mouth.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Look, we need to come to some sort of conclusion about this before we talk to her. We need to be a united front on this."

"I agree," Kurt said. He put his mouth under the tap and took a sip of water, swirling it around in his mouth before spitting it out in the sink. He rinsed his toothbrush under the water and put it back in the holder next to Blaine's. "So what's her punishment?"

"Grounded, definitely. For at least a month."

"Two."

"Seems fair."

"And no more car privileges indefinitely, until we can figure out whether she's responsible enough to handle it."

Blaine nodded. "Zach will be happy not to have to share the car with her anymore."

"He can take Alicia out without having to argue with his sister about it."

"So, grounded for two months and no car privileges."

"Yes."

"What are we going to say? In terms of our obligatory parental lecture."

"We can wing it," Kurt said. "Make sure she understands that this is wrong and that drinking at her age is stupid."

"But we're glad she knows that she can come to us if she needs us," Blaine added pointedly.

"Fine, but after that I'm reiterating her stupidity and warning her about how she could've been drugged and raped at that party."

"Good."

"Good." Kurt looked Blaine up and down before stepping forward, placing his hands low on Blaine's waist. "Wanna take a shower together?"

Blaine smirked. "When have I ever said no to that?"

Forty-five minutes later, they were dressed and heading into the kitchen.

"I'll make the coffee if you make the pancakes," Kurt said.

"Deal."

Zachary popped into the kitchen only moments later. "I heard coffee."

"You heard that from all the way upstairs in your room?" Blaine asked, laughing.

"Nah, I was in the living room waiting for you guys to stop having sex and come make breakfast."

Kurt's jaw dropped and Blaine swatted him with the spatula. "I told you you were being too loud!"

"Stop! We can't talk about sex in front of our son!"

Zach rolled his eyes as he sat at the kitchen table. "Please. I'm going to college in a few months. I'm old enough to be cognizant of the fact that you guys still go at it like rabbits."

"Zachary!"

"What?! God, it's a compliment. Alicia's parents haven't had sex since she was conceived."

"We're done talking about this," Kurt said with the tone of finality he'd perfected over years of parenting.

"Fine, whatever."

When the coffee was finished brewing, Kurt pulled down three mugs and filled them all, making Blaine's and Zachary's as they took it and handing them each their mugs. Zachary muttered an absent, "Thanks, Dad," and kept on reading the newspaper while Blaine gave Kurt a kiss on the cheek and said, "Thanks, babe."

Kurt ruffled his hair, smiling at the grey strands. "Of course."

Blaine seemed to notice Kurt staring at his hair and pushed him away. "Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"If you don't quit staring at my grey hair all the time I'm going to hide your contacts so you have to wear your bifocals."

"You wouldn't dare," Kurt gasped.

"I would."

"It's not my fault your hair is darker than mine so your grey hairs are easier to see."

"And it's not my fault you can barely see at all."

"My vision is not that bad."

"Tell that to Dr. Huffman."

Kurt sighed. "Fine. But I was only admiring your grey hair. I happen to think you look sexy with your salt and pepper hair."

"Oh yeah?" Blaine smiled, turning away from the pancake he'd just flipped on the pan. He wound his arms around Kurt's waist and leaned in for a kiss. "Well, I think you look sexy in your bifocals."

"Mmm, is that so?"

"Mmhmm."

They got lost in kissing each other until Zach said, "Pancake's burning."

Blaine pulled away and flipped it onto the plate on the counter, cursing as he saw how dark it was. "Shit. This one's no good."

"Blaine! Don't curse in front of our son!"

"Oh, for the love of god, Kurt, he heard us having sex. I think he can survive me saying the word 'shit.'"

They heard creaking on the stairs and all turned to see Rebecca stepping into the kitchen, wiping blearily at her eyes and still wearing her clothes from the night before. Her mascara was smeared under her eyes.

"Whoa, someone's doing the walk of shame," Zach said.

Kurt smacked him lightly in the back of the head. "Zachary!"

"What the hell happened to you?" Zach asked, ignoring his dad as Rebecca joined him at the table. Rebecca only moaned and laid her head down on the wood. Zach laughed. "Oh, my god, you're totally hungover."

"Leave me alone," she whined.

"Please tell me she's in trouble for this," Zach said, grinning at his dads.

Blaine gave him a serious look. "Go in the living room while we talk to your sister."

"No way! I want to watch her get in trouble!"

"Zachary, go."

"Listen to your Papa," Kurt added, pointing out of the room.

Zach groaned as he pushed away to the table. "God, you guys are the worst."

Kurt brought his coffee mug with him over to the table and sat where Zachary had been, nudging Rebecca to get her to look up at him. Blaine finished up with the pancake on the stove and took a break to come join his husband, standing behind him and gripping the back of his chair.

Rebecca blinked up at them, sitting up. "Just tell me how long I'm grounded and let me get it over with. I _so _don't want the lecture."

"Too bad; you're getting one," Kurt said. "What happened last night? I thought your Papa and I raised you to know that drinking underage is not only illegal, but stupid and irresponsible. What on earth made you think going to that party was a good idea?"

"Dad, _everyone _was going. I was going to be a total loser if I didn't show up. I wasn't going to drink, I swear, but Nicky offered me a drink and I couldn't just say no."

"Really? You couldn't?"

"Who's Nicky?" Blaine asked.

"He's the hottest guy at school and I've had a crush on him for, like, _months._"

Kurt looked up at Blaine and gave him a look that said _She's making this too easy. _"So, not only did you drink, but you thought it was a good idea to accept a drink some boy made for you? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if he had drugged that drink, Rebecca? He could have raped you."

"Nicky's not like that," she muttered, looking down. "He's a good guy."

"How well do you know him?"

"I mean, we haven't talked _that much, _but he has this little sister that's super adorable and he babysits her all the time and posts pictures of him and her on Facebook. They're really sweet. He'd never do something like...like what you said."

"But he could have," Blaine said. "Or another guy could have. You can't just trust everyone you meet, honey. I love that you want to believe the best in people, but the world isn't all good."

Kurt glared up at Blaine and muttered, "Focus, Blaine."

Blaine sighed and looked back at his daughter. "Look, our point is that this whole thing could have been a lot worse."

"Don't I get credit for calling you guys and not driving home?"

"Yes," Blaine answered before Kurt could say anything. "Yes, you do. That was responsible and smart and we're both glad you did that. But that doesn't excuse the rest of your irresponsible behavior. You don't get a gold star for doing what you're supposed to, especially after you've done a whole bunch of things you're _not _supposed to."

Kurt nodded and patted Blaine's hand behind him. "You're grounded, obviously."

"How long?" she asked.

"Two months."

Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. "_Two months?!"_

"You're lucky it's not longer," Kurt told her.

"And your car privileges have been revoked," Blaine added.

"For how long?"

"Until we decide that you're responsible enough to handle that kind of freedom."

"But that's not fair!"

"Oh, I think it's more than fair," Kurt said. "Keep talking and we can make it three months and take away your computer, too."

"I need that for school!"

"Then maybe you should quit while you're ahead," Blaine advised.

She stood up from the table. "This is so not fair! Oh my god, I hate you guys! You're the worst parents ever!"

Kurt and Blaine listened to her stomping up the stairs and slamming her door.

"That's a far different sentiment than she expressed last night," Blaine said.

Kurt looked up at him and asked, "Is it bad that I wish she was more hungover?"

Blaine laughed and kissed the top of Kurt's head. "Yes."

He headed back over to the stove, pouring more pancake mix onto the pan. He watched bubbles start to form in the mix and listened to it sizzle and pop, waiting for the perfect time to flip it. Kurt's arms wound around his waist from behind and a soft kiss was placed on the back of his neck.

"That wasn't so bad. She only hates us. At least she doesn't wish she was never born," Kurt said.

"That would be a whole different problem."

"Indeed it would."

Zachary came back into the kitchen, there, coffee and newspaper still in hand. "Did I hear that I get the car to myself now?"

"For now," Kurt answered, stepping away from Blaine. He sat down next to Zach on the table and took the front section of the newspaper.

"Sweet. Can I take Alicia out tonight?"

"Sure," Blaine said.

"Be back by eleven," Kurt added.

"Her curfew is 10:30 anyway."

Kurt paused, staring at Zachary. After a moment he reached out and grabbed the back of Zachary's head, pulling him in to kiss his temple. "Thank you for being the good kid."

Zachary grimaced and wiped his face but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'd hardly label me the good kid just because I don't go out drinking."

"How are those college applications going?"

"They're all done and ready to be mailed out."

"Yep. The good kid."

Blaine laughed at the stove, setting a plate of several pancakes in the center of the table in front of Kurt and Zach. "The first round of pancakes are ready."

Kurt got up and grabbed a couple of plates and forks and brought them back to the table. "Thank you, dear."

"You're welcome."

"Should we call Rebecca down for breakfast?" Zach asked.

"Didn't you hear? She hates us. We're the worst parents ever. The worst parents ever wouldn't feed their hungover daughter lemon blueberry pancakes," Kurt said.

Zach laughed and shook his head. "You're cruel, Dad."

"Hey, I am not! If she wants pancakes she can come get them. She saw Blaine cooking them, she knows they're here. We're not going to baby her anymore. Right, Blaine?"

"Right, sweetheart," Blaine answered, joining them at the table and grabbing a pancaked for his plate.

"How do you guys always agree on everything?" Zach asked.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look before bursting out in laughter.


	37. Short

Blaine is short.

He knows it, Kurt knows it, Cooper knows it, Rachel knows it. Everyone knows it. There are a lot of things Blaine doesn't like about himself and tries to hide, but this is the only thing he really _can't _hide. He hates his hair, so he gels it down. He hates his body, so he wears loose sweaters. He hates his height, so he—does nothing.

Because there's nothing he _can _do.

He huffs as he stands next to Kurt in the bathroom mirror. Kurt is working on fluffing his hair up while Blaine is working on gelling his down.

Blaine can't help grimacing in the mirror, resenting Kurt's height. And this isn't about Kurt's strength—it really isn't. This has nothing to do with how Blaine wants to be Kurt's hero or protector or any of that. It just has to do with Blaine wishing he was taller, like his brother.

"Hair not shellacking properly?" Kurt quips, noting Blaine's facial expression.

Blaine rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't understand, Kurt. You don't have curly, poofy, frizzy hair. You have perfect hair. Just like everything else that's perfect about you," Blaine mumbles.

"What?" Kurt laughs. "Blaine, I thought we had this conversation. I'm not perfect, babe. Far from it."

"You sure look perfect. And act perfect. And sing perfect. And—"

"Honey, what's bothering you?" Kurt asks, turning to face Blaine fully.

Blaine drops his hands from his hair and looks at Kurt. "You're going to think it's stupid."

"I promise I won't."

"You will."

"Well, if I do, I won't say so."

Blaine pauses before admitting, "I hate my height. I'm so much shorter than you and it drives me crazy."

"Oh." Kurt smiles at him. "You're not that much shorter, Blaine. Definitely not as short as Rachel."

"She's not that much shorter than me!" Blaine drops his comb on the counter, giving up on his hair, and rinses off his hands, shaking them dry in the sink before grabbing the hand towel. "I just hate it. I feel like it's a metaphor for how I come up short next to you."

"Okay, now _that _is silly," Kurt says.

"You promised!"

"Blaine, honey, your height is not a metaphor! It's a result of genetics!"

"Cooper's taller than me," Blaine grumbles. "By, like, eight feet."

"Your brother is not over thirteen feet tall."

"Close enough."

Kurt steps into Blaine's space, rubbing his hands up and down Blaine's biceps. "I promise you that your height is not a bad thing." He grabs the sides of Blaine's face and kisses him soundly. "Trust me on that."

And it's reassuring, it is. Blaine likes that Kurt seems so sure of his attraction to him, even after they've both changed so much. But he still can't understand _why _Kurt would be attracted to him. Why Kurt would like his tummy, or his love handles, or his height. When Blaine looks in the mirror, he sees nothing appealing about it.

"What could you possibly like about dating a munchkin?" Blaine asks, because he needs to know.

"Is that politically correct? I thought it was little people."

Blaine sighs. "If you're not going to take this seriously, Kurt—"

"No, no, okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am." Kurt pouts, kissing Blaine's cheek. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious."

"That would be appreciated."

"Look, Blaine, there are a million reasons why I love your height. Most of them have to do with the bedroom, honestly. I love that you're the perfect spooning size for me, and how I can drape my arms around your neck and lean my forehead against yours like this." Kurt does just that, kissing Blaine's nose.

Blaine melts, smiling shyly up at Kurt. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But mostly I just love that when I hold you like this," Kurt slips his arms tighter over Blaine's shoulders and hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulders, head tilted and resting against Blaine's, "it feels like coming home. It feels like a foot rub after a long day at work, or a bubble bath after an exhausting day with the kids. The way you fit in my arms feels like we were made to hold each other like this, and if you were any other height, it just wouldn't feel the same."

And oh, how that does it. Blaine is helpless against talks of their future and domesticity. Kurt always teases Blaine about being the grand gesture romantic, but Kurt's words put him as a strong contender for the title.

"I love you—tiny stature, curly hair, bubble butt and all."

Blaine gasps and pulls away from Kurt, swatting him lightly on the arm. "I'm not wearing the bubble butt underwear right now!"

"Honey, you don't _need _the bubble butt underwear."

"That's not a good thing," Blaine huffs, glancing in the mirror at him standing sideways.

Kurt laughs and shakes his head, slipping his hands over Blaine's butt and squeezing. "No, it's an _excellent _thing."

Blaine lets Kurt lead him back to the bedroom, falling on the bed and peeling off each other's clothes. Kurt took the time to show Blaine all of the other things he loved about Blaine's height, and in the afterglow, Blaine had to agree. His height definitely had certain advantages.


	38. A Thousand Sweet Kisses

_Blangst Prompt of the Day #756: Blaine has been getting taunted at NYADA for a while, but hasn't told anyone about it, not even Kurt. One day, Blaine snaps and comes home to the empty loft and has a complete breakdown (crying, screaming, throwing things, etc.) Kurt comes home in the middle of it._

… … …

Blaine's had enough panic attacks to recognize the signs when he's about to have one. His palms get sweaty and his heart beats unsteadily in his chest. His whole body hums, like it's gearing up for what's ahead and thrumming with nervous energy.

He's been in this pre-panic attack state for weeks, now. He's constantly on the brink of a breakdown, always put there by the relentless taunting from his classmates. It doesn't even matter what they're saying at this point. He's fat, he's stupid, he's talentless. It's a step up from being called a fag all the time, at least, but it's not much better. He usually tunes them out the second someone opens their mouth at him in the hallways, because he knows it'll just be an insult.

This makes it hard for him to make friends, but Blaine thinks that maybe he doesn't want friends outside of the ones he has now. From what he's heard from Kurt and Rachel, all the students at NYADA are two-faced and would stab you in the back in a heartbeat if it meant getting themselves ahead. He likes the security of knowing that his friends from high school, as odd as it may seem, are the most loyal people he's ever met.

And it's really not their fault that they haven't noticed Blaine's distress. He hides it well; he always has. When someone asks him what's wrong, he looks down and swallows hard, and by the time he looks back up he's slipped into a character and offers a smile and says, "Nothing." It works, for the most part. As loyal as his friends are, they also tend to be quite self-absorbed.

There comes a point, though, where Blaine can no longer hide it. It just builds and builds inside of him and then there's nothing to do but explode.

Today is explosion day. He can feel it.

He's proven right when Cassandra July is _relentless _on him in dance class. They don't even get through a full routine without Ms. July stopping the pianist and critiquing Blaine on a myriad of tiny details. Most of them aren't even real problems; he's dancing better than most of the other people in the class. She just hates him, for some unknown reason.

Just like everyone else in this goddamn school.

When Blaine gets out of dance class, he skips lunch with Kurt and heads straight back to Kurt's loft. It's not his anymore, but he still has a key and Kurt has insisted that he's welcome anytime he needs to escape, or just wants to spend time there. He sends a text just in case, letting Kurt know that he's having a bad day and needs to go unwind. He implies to Kurt that he's going to take a nap, but he knows he won't be able to sleep. Not at first, at least.

His panic attack hits him the second he steps off the subway at his stop, walking the last few blocks to Kurt's loft. He struggles to breath, clutching at his chest as he makes his way down the street. Everything feels like it's collapsing in on him. He thinks absently that he's glad he's in New York, where no one notices or cares that he's fighting back tears in the middle of the street.

The second Blaine slides the loft door open, he lets go. He doesn't bother holding the tears back, not anymore. His sobs echo through the empty apartment, bouncing off of the walls and shooting the insults back at him.

_Seriously? How is it possible for someone to be this stupid?_

_You look fucking ridiculous. Who dresses you in the morning? Your great-grandfather?_

_I sincerely hope no one has ever told you you're funny. You'll never make it in comedy._

_That's what you call a dramatic monologue? You looked constipated the whole way through. _

_I said a single pirouette, Blaine, not a double. Overachieving won't get you anywhere in this class._

And god, he can't _breathe. _He claws at his coat and his sweater, removing some of his top layers to see if that will help, but it doesn't. He's in his undershirt and bright yellow pants and he still can't breathe. The words keep echoing in his head and he can't make them stop, and his lungs have been shrunk and he can't breathe, and nothing is right and everything is wrong and he doesn't know anything anymore.

He screams in frustration, realizing that he barely has the breath to do so but feels a little better afterwards. He screams again, pulling at his hair and pacing around the room. He needs to box—that's what usually helps him through this—but he has nothing to take out his physical aggression on.

He crosses the room to the couch and grabs one of the decorative pillows, throwing it across the room. It hits the clock on the wall and they both crash onto the floor. He feels some sense of satisfaction, seeing an external expression of chaos to match the way he feels internally. So he throws the other pillow, knocking over a cup on the counter that holds all of their wooden spoons and spatulas.

Blaine goes into a blind destruction after that. He picks things up around the room and throws them, aware that he's destroying his fiancé 's apartment and unable to stop.

The door slides open at some point. Blaine registers it on some level, but he's too worked up to notice or stop what he's doing. He kicks one of the kitchen chairs over before flipping the table on its side.

That's when he feels a pair of hands wrap around his biceps and sees Kurt step into his vision.

"Honey, Blaine, hey. Look at me. _Look at me. _You're okay, I promise."

Blaine's still crying, and he still can't breathe, and his head is pounding almost as hard as his heart. "I—I—"

"It's okay, don't talk. Just look at me and breathe, okay? Look at me and breathe. Focus on breathing. Can you do that for me? In and out." Kurt takes a deep breath in to demonstrate and then blows it out slowly, nodding.

Blaine tries his best to copy Kurt, but it's useless. He can't breathe and he hasn't been able to for who knows how long. He shakes his head, panting. "I can't… I can't do it."

"You can, Blaine, you can. This is your brain playing a cruel trick on you. Everything is okay, I promise, you just have to breathe."

"I can't. They… Everyone at school, they—"

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about them, okay? Don't worry about anyone else but you. You need to start breathing or you're going to pass out, Blaine. I'm serious. You have to try. Focus with me, okay?"

Kurt slips one hand to Blaine's abdomen and encourages to push it out with a deep breath. It takes them a while, with Kurt helping Blaine to breathe and Blaine struggling to follow Kurt's lead. But finally, it works. Blaine's breathing evens out relatively, even as his heart is still stuttering in his chest.

"Come on, come lie down," Kurt says, guiding Blaine to the bedroom.

Blaine looks around at the absolute havoc he's wreaked in the living room. His headache worsens. "Oh, god, we have to clean the loft. I'm so sorry, Kurt, I don't even remember—"

"Don't worry about it, Blaine. I'll clean it up later."

"No, I can't make you do that."

Kurt pushes Blaine towards the bed, nudging him to lie down. "We can talk about the living room later, okay? I just want to make sure you're alright."

Blaine's reluctant, but lays on the bed anyway. He always gets exhausted after he has a panic attack and he's suddenly fighting to keep his eyes open. "Lay with me," he asks. He's closed his eyes, but he feels the bed dip behind him, and Kurt's arm wrap around his waist.

"Whatever it is, Blaine, you can tell me. I want to help you," Kurt tells him.

Blaine sighs. "It's a lot."

"I can tell. But you obviously can't carry this all yourself, not if it does this. You have to start letting me in more or we're both going to suffer."

"It's just everyone at school," Blaine mutters, hating how his voice shakes. He's cried himself out and he doesn't want to start again. "I thought it'd be easier, in college, but it's worse. I get bullied more here than I ever did in high school, except it's not just about me being gay. It's not about that at all. It's about every other part of me. Everything about me is wrong and I just… I don't want to think about what that means for me."

Kurt tugs at Blaine's waist, nuzzling Blaine's back, and Blaine takes that as his sign to turn over in Kurt's arms, so he does. Kurt immediately wipes the tears from Blaine's cheeks, kissing them both, then kissing Blaine's eyes, then his mouth.

"I'll tell you what that means for you," Kurt says, meeting Blaine's eyes. "It means that you are _so _amazing, that your talent intimidates everyone else to the point where they have to put you down to feel better about themselves. And if you give in? If you listen to them? You're letting them win, Blaine."

"How am I supposed to just ignore people when they tear me down _constantly _all day? Every day?"

"You have to try, honey." Kurt pauses, running his hand up and down Blaine's back. "Okay, how about this: anytime someone says something mean to you, you text me and I will send you a message explaining why they're wrong. Plus, when I see you, you get three kisses for every one mean thing someone says to you."

Blaine laughs—the wet and squeaky laugh he always does when he's crying. It makes Kurt's face light up. "You have a lot of kisses to make up on."

"Oh no," Kurt says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and smiling. "I have to kiss my fiancé ? Darn."

Kurt leans forward, kissing Blaine deeply. When they pull apart, Blaine wipes at his eyes. "I'm sorry I wrecked your living room."

"It's okay. Really. I'll clean it later, or make Rachel and Santana do it. Hopefully some of the more hideous pieces that Rachel insisted belonged here are lying broken in the wreckage."

"She'd be mad at me."

"No, she'd probably blame me, somehow. It's Rachel logic."

Blaine laughs again, then hiccups. Kurt traces his fingers softly across Blaine's forehead, letting them slide into Blaine's loosened hair. His hand slides back to cradle the back of Blaine's head, bringing him in again for another kiss.

They're broken apart by another hiccup from Blaine.

"I guess the kisses will have to wait," Blaine says, smiling apologetically.

Kurt smirks. "I didn't say the kisses had to be on your lips, honey."

He pulls away from Blaine and starts kissing down his neck, his chest, lower.

It's not a permanent fix, but Blaine can't deny he feels better.


	39. Precipice

_Anon prompted: Can we have more of the bulimic Blaine verse? Maybe Blaine just stops talking one day and no one can make him talk, and one day Kurt comes home and sees him standing on the rail of the fire escape, and Kurt talks him out of jumping, and Blaine admits he did it bc he threw up again and he felt weak and he thought Kurt would be too ashamed of him and he couldn't face him._

_So, this is in the same verse as Can't Weigh Me Down, Sick to My Stomach, and The Rabbit Hole of Despair._

_TW: Bulimia/ED, cutting/self-harm, suicidal thoughts/attempt_

… … …

He didn't know when, exactly, it started. It could've been a week ago, or two weeks ago, or even just the previous day. Blaine honestly didn't remember at that point. It only took Kurt and Santana less than a day to notice, but everyone else took a few days.

Blaine couldn't deny that hurt.

Still, it was nice that Santana and Kurt had noticed right away. Literally right away, actually. The second Blaine stepped into the loft after school, he was greeted by Santana sitting on the couch with a plate of cookies in front of her.

"Hey, Blaine."

Blaine only nodded in response.

"I made cookies."

Blaine dropped his bag by the door and joined her on the couch, taking a cookie. He didn't want it-he never wanted it-but he could tell by her tone of voice that it wasn't optional.

"How was your day?"

Blaine shrugged.

"Okay, what's up with you? Why aren't you talking?"

That's all it took. Three sentences and Santana could already tell Blaine wasn't talking. It made him feel good to know that she was such a good friend and knew him so well, even if sometimes that was a pain in the ass.

Kurt noticed even quicker, which was almost unnerving, but comforting at the same time. He'd had a lot to do at school that day with rehearsals and classes and homework, so by the time he got home it was late. Blaine was already in his bed at that point, in his pajamas and staring blankly at the wall.

Kurt crawled onto the bed behind him and kissed his cheek, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "Hey, stranger. Sorry I'm home so late."

Blaine didn't say anything. He didn't shrug, or nod, or make any indication that he'd heard Kurt. All he did was roll over onto his back and look Kurt in the eyes, and Kurt just knew.

"Oh, baby. I really wish there was something I could do for you. Tell me what I can do for you? You don't have to talk to tell me, you know."

Blaine did know. He lifted a hand and cradled the back of Kurt's head, bringing their lips together. Kurt responded immediately, opening his mouth and licking his way into Blaine's, un-buttoning Blaine's pajama shirt and pushing it open before pulling back to peel off his own layers.

It was as simple as that. Kurt just knew him so well that no words needed to be exchanged for them to communicate.

This skill came in handy for them as Blaine kept quiet. Santana couldn't read him quite as well, but they still managed alright.

It was hard, but it was what Blaine needed. The more insults that were hurled at him in the hallways, the less he felt like talking. No one cared what he had to say, anyway, so why did he bother? Even after he'd stopped speaking, it took a while for anyone outside of Kurt and Santana to notice. Rachel took a few days, as did Sam and Artie and Mercedes. His classmates and professors took even longer.

It got to the point where Blaine wondered why he'd ever bothered talking at all.

When it came to singing, it was a problem. Blaine did miss singing, he couldn't deny that. This was the first time since he started the spring semester, though, that he was happy he didn't have time in his schedule for any vocal classes. His acting classes required monologues and scenes, but Blaine forged a doctor's note that said he had laryngitis and was on vocal rest. They all accepted it without a further thought, dismissing Blaine to focus on the normal students.

It struck Blaine over and over again throughout the weeks that he was no longer considered normal. Back at Dalton, he was the most normal student there was. He was the shining example for the whole school to model themselves after. Even when he moved to McKinley, after the title of new kid had worn off, Blaine became the normal one.

He wasn't normal anymore. When had he become abnormal? And what did that mean for him?

... ... ...

Three weeks had passed since Blaine stopped talking. Kurt still tried to get him to talk at every opportunity while Santana respected his decision, still talking to him but never expecting an answer.

"What do you want to watch? I'm torn, because MTV will inevitably have barely dressed ladies and you know how I love the ladies, but MTV is also trashy as hell. CNN would be the more educational choice, but Britt used to watch CNN all the time and it'll just make me think of her. Maybe I should just turn on something lame like HGTV. I know how you gay guys love home improvement and gardening."

"Stereotype much?" Kurt quipped.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Please. You know I have love for you. Get over it. Right, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't say anything. He did, however, lay his head on Santana's lap.

"Why do you do that?" Kurt asked with a sigh. He came over to the couch and sat on Santana's other side, running his fingers over Blaine's scalp. (He hadn't gelled in a month).

"What?"

"Why do you ask him things when you know he won't answer?"

"You do the same thing."

"Because I understand him even when he doesn't speak."

"And I don't?"

"Not the way that I do."

"Get over yourself, Hummel. Blaine and I have a relationship you could never understand. We get each other on levels you would never relate to. Just because I don't fuck him every night doesn't mean I don't know what he's saying when he doesn't speak."

Blaine reached up a hand to touch Santana's face, covering her mouth. He gave her a subtle but pointed look.

She pulled his hand off and said, "See? He doesn't have to say anything and I know exactly what he means."

"Wow, you know what someone covering your mouth means, such clever deductive skills," Kurt snapped.

Blaine sat up and crawled over Santana into Kurt's lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck. He nuzzled his face into Kurt's hair and the side of his neck, holding on tightly.

Kurt sighed, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist. "I know, I'm sorry. You can't expect us to get along all the time, though."

And he didn't. Although Kurt and Santana were the two people closest to Blaine, most times they fought like they hated each other. It really wasn't surprising, given how Santana loved antagonizing people and Kurt couldn't resist a fight, not when it was being taunted in his face on purpose.

Blaine pulled away and kissed Kurt's forehead, then climbed off of Kurt's lap and kissed Santana's forehead before disappearing behind the curtain to Kurt's room to lie down for a nap.

He was always tired these days.

... ... ...

Day 159.

That was how long Blaine had gone without throwing up.

Santana said that throwing up and cutting were both forms of self-harm, so if they categorized all of his problems as self-harm, then he'd only been clean for 45 days now, since the cutting reset him. But if they categorized them as separate issues-as an eating disorder and cutting-then he was still clean from his eating disorder for 159 days but only from cutting for 45 days. Blaine wasn't sure they should start a cutting recovery day count since it was only once and he didn't know if he'd do it again, but Santana insisted that once made it a problem.

Blaine's mental health was really the only time Kurt and Santana agreed on anything. Kurt usually went along with whatever she said because he knew that she had more knowledge on the subject, and her advice hadn't led them wrong yet. She was the one to pick up on and alert Kurt to Blaine's bulimia, and his subsequent cutting, and so Kurt usually followed her lead.

Which was odd, really, because Kurt didn't follow anyone's lead. But Blaine figured that Kurt was so lost in the situation that he was willing to do anything as long as it meant helping him.

All of this to say that Blaine was going out of his mind. He'd gone 159 days without throwing up, and 45 without cutting, and there was no way he was going to survive if he didn't do _something. _The whole reason he'd stopped speaking soon after he cut was because he needed _something _to hold onto. Something that was his, that he had control over. Something he could grasp onto in his life without fear of it changing or leaving. It was up to Blaine.

Just like his life.

He'd been toying with the idea of suicide for a while now. Not really concretely-he'd never pick up a gun or a bottle of pills or hang himself, he knew that much. But he didn't look both ways before crossing the street anymore, and he didn't worry about stepping too close to the ledge of things or walking home alone at night. The idea of his death just didn't scare him anymore.

What was even more startling was that his lack of fear didn't scare him, either. He just accepted it. He was no longer afraid of death, and he didn't care.

If Kurt knew, he'd flip. If Santana knew, she'd have him committed.

So Blaine kept quiet about it. Which wasn't hard, given that he wasn't speaking. But his vague notion of indirect suicide had started 45 days ago and it hadn't let up since. It had become more pronounced, actually.

And without throwing up or cutting to anchor him, he didn't know what that vague notion of indirect suicide would turn into.

So it was self-preservation, really. A sign that maybe he cared after all. That maybe he did value his life. Kurt and Santana would be thanking him and praising him if they knew he'd thrown up that day. They wouldn't know, because he wouldn't say anything, but if they did, he'd get positive reinforcement, he was sure.

It wasn't even that bad, really. He was calm when he did it, which was eerie. Usually he sobbed through it, hating himself as he stuck his fingers down his throat. This time, he didn't cry at all. He calmly made his way to the bathroom in Kurt's loft-no one home yet-and sat down in front of the toilet. He lifted the lid, stuck his fingers down his throat, and vomited everything he'd eaten that day (a poppyseed muffin and a vegetarian sub from the sandwich station in the NYADA cafeteria).

After he was done, he flushed the toilet, stood up, and looked at himself in the mirror as he wiped his mouth.

He didn't recognize himself at all.

The couch seemed like the best place to go afterwards. He laid down and pulled the afghan over the back of the couch onto him, cuddling into the cushions and turning on some random channel on TV. He wasn't really watching, so it didn't matter. He just needed background noise to distract himself from his racing thoughts.

It didn't help.

Throwing up hadn't made everything better, like he'd thought it would. It just made everything worse. He wanted to try cutting, but he'd already broken one of the rules and he didn't want to break another. He was consumed by anxiety, though, and he knew he had to do _something. _He tugged the blanket tighter around him and closed his eyes, trying to tune out his brain.

It worked for a while. He dozed off in the middle of some reality show, and when he woke up a chick flick was on and it was dark outside. No one was home, still. He figured Santana was working at the diner, and Rachel was at rehearsal for _Funny Girl._ Kurt, he knew, would be home sometime soon from a scene rehearsal for his acting class.

Blaine was still just as anxious when he woke up as when he fell asleep, though. He threw the blanket off and paced around the room, rubbing his hand under his shirt over the scars on his stomach. They'd nearly healed now, unfortunately. He wanted nothing more than to add to them, but he knew Kurt would be disappointed and Santana would be mad.

He needed to get some air. That was the answer. If he went outside and got some clear air, he'd feel better. So he opened the window and climbed out onto the fire escape, thinking back to when he sat out here with Santana and Kurt and confessed to Kurt about his problem with throwing up for the first time.

God, that didn't make Blaine feel any better. If anything it upped his anxiety, thinking back to the first time this had been a problem and the heartbreak on Kurt's face then. That same heartbreak had made a reappearance when Blaine cut himself.

Blaine closed his eyes and sighed. The fresh air wasn't helping either. He stepped over to the railing and looked around, then up, then down. Kurt lived on the fifth floor, so it was a good distance down to the ground. Blaine stared, completely transfixed. He slipped his feet onto the bottom rungs of the railing and held onto the top, looking down further.

It would be so easy, he thought. This was his perfect opportunity. It wouldn't even count as a suicide. It'd just be him slipping. A freak accident. He stepped higher, balancing on top of the railing. He suddenly wished he'd joined gymnastics as a kid.

He closed his eyes, feeling the wind blow through him and weighing the pros and cons of jumping off.

He heard footsteps on the ledge behind him and turned to see Kurt climbing out onto the fire escape, eyes wide.

"Blaine. Honey, what are you doing?"

Blaine turned and looked down, then back at Kurt. He shrugged.

"Okay, you know I respect your decision to stop talking. I've indulged it for weeks. But this is serious, and I need you to physically tell me-with your voice-what is happening, because I am freaking out right now, Blaine."

"It could be an accident," Blaine said. His voice was raspy from disuse. He cleared his throat. "I could slip, and it would just be an accident. Then it wouldn't count as suicide. Right?" He looked to Kurt, raising his eyebrows.

Kurt's eyes were wet. "Please get down and we can talk about this. _Please. _You're really scaring me right now."

"Nothing scares me anymore," Blaine told him. "I've been thinking about this for weeks-about my death-and it doesn't scare me anymore."

"But it scares me, honey. I can't lose you. Please just step down from there onto this ledge right here. I promise, whatever it is, we can work through it. I'll make it better, I swear. Just please come here."

"I threw up today."

"That's okay. We can work through it."

"I wanted to cut myself."

"It's okay. None of that matters, alright? None of that matters right now. All that matters is you, and your very fragile life that is teetering on the edge of that railing."

Blaine paused before nodding. He jumped backwards, onto the ledge next to Kurt. He fell onto his butt, catching himself with his hands a little too hard. He shook out his hands and grimaced. "Ouch."

Kurt immediately ambushed him. Blaine didn't have a second to breathe before Kurt was throwing his body on top of Blaine's, wrapping his arms around him and crying.

"Oh my god, Blaine, you scared me so much. Don't you _ever _do that again, do you hear me?"

Blaine nodded. "I hear you."

"Why would you consider that? Why would you think of that as a solution?"

"I threw up again."

"That's okay-"

"But it isn't. And I'm tired of disappointing you and Santana. I didn't want to face you. I felt weak, Kurt. I've felt weak for so long that I don't remember what it feels like to be strong anymore and I'm just _tired._"

Kurt pulled away and held Blaine's face in his hands. "I understand, honey. I do. But you can't do this again. It's okay to fall down along the way, okay? Just so long as you let me catch you. I'm so proud of you for doing so well, but it's normal to slip up when you're trying to get better. It doesn't make you weak."

"It's not just that. It's everything. I feel so overwhelmed and nothing helps anymore. Someone says one mean thing to me in the hallway and I come completely undone. I just feel like there's no point anymore. What am I still here for? I can't get any better."

"You can, Blaine. You can. I know it seems hopeless right now, but we're going to get through it."

"There's no we here," Blaine said, pushing Kurt away and standing up. "It's me, Kurt. I'm the one with the problems. I'm the one who needs to stick his fingers down his throat or slice open his body to feel anything. It has nothing to do with you."

He went back in through the window, walking into the loft and heading into Kurt's bedroom.

Kurt followed him. "That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you've been saying. 'We'll get through this,' like it has anything to do with you. It's _me. _It's _my _problems. You can't add yourself and pretend like you understand what I'm feeling."

"So tell me what you're feeling, Blaine. Explain it to me."

"I can't!" Blaine took in a deep, shuddering breath, tugging at his hair and pacing in front of Kurt's bed. "I feel too much and not enough at the same time. I feel overwhelmed with anxiety because my body is constantly vibrating with the need to hurt itself, and yet I feel numb because without giving in I can't feel anything at all. There is..._so much _happening in my mind, and I don't understand any of it."

Kurt stepped in front of Blaine, stopping him in his tracks. He grabbed onto Blaine's biceps and forced Blaine to look at him. "Remember when you agreed to see a professional?"

"...Yes."

"We need to seriously look into that. You're bulimic, you're cutting, you're suicidal-"

Blaine broke away and walked out of the room, sighing. "Those are all such harsh words to use."

"They're honest, Blaine," Kurt called after him. "You have a lot of problems and I just... I don't know how we got to this point."

"There you go with the 'we' again," Blaine snapped, turning to face Kurt. _"We _didn't get to this point, Kurt. I did. _I'm _bulimic and _I'm _a cutter and _I _stood on that ledge contemplating my death. Not you. Me."

"_I am in this with you! _I am trying to help you! Why won't you let me?"

"_Because I don't deserve help, Kurt! _I don't _deserve_ to be saved."

"Everyone deserves to be saved," Kurt said, tone strong and forceful. "_Everyone."_

"Not me."

_"Especially _you!"

Blaine deflated, because Kurt was crying, and when Kurt was crying he didn't feel like arguing. He just wanted to say whatever it was that Kurt wanted to hear to make him feel better. Kurt didn't deserve to cry over him. He was too good. And Blaine was nothing.

"I'm sorry," Blaine sighed, because it seemed like the only way to move towards a resolution.

Kurt was having none of it though. "No. Don't give me that. Not unless you actually mean it. Don't apologize when you're not sorry at all, Blaine. That's counterproductive."

"What's productive, then? What's going to help? Because so far, all that's helped me is throwing up and cutting, and _you_ decided that I couldn't do that anymore."

"I'm not going to apologize for not letting you hurt yourself," Kurt said sternly.

"It was helping!"

"It was _hurting _you, Blaine! You just can't see that because you're depressed!"

And there it was.

The word hung in the air between them. It was the first time it'd been spoken since Blaine had been having his problems.

That's what he'd been calling them in his head. Problems. Issues. He never wanted to call them out for what they were, or be honest about what was happening. It was easier to brush them off as something small, something that could be managed by not talking about them.

Which didn't make sense, now that Blaine thought about it. The less you talked about a problem the worse it got. That was common knowledge. For some reason, Blaine had thought that if he just didn't talk, all of his problems would go away. But he had stood on the ledge tonight and thought about suicide, so obviously his problems hadn't gotten any better.

"I'm depressed," he said. It was shaky, like he was testing the word in his mouth.

Kurt relaxed, his face falling. "Yeah, Blaine. You're depressed."

"What do I do?" he asked, because he honestly didn't know.

"You get help, sweetheart. You go to therapy and if it seems like the right thing for you, you get medication."

"I don't want to go on medication."

"Then don't. But you have to at least talk to someone, Blaine. I can't... I can't come home to you standing on that ledge again. Or worse, to find that you've actually jumped." Kurt swallowed, wiping at his eyes. Blaine hadn't even realized he'd started crying again. "I can't live without you, Blaine. And I know that sounds like some stupid, cheesy, dramatic line from the climax of a romcom but it's true. I was barely living when we were broken up, and I don't know what I'd do if you died. I'd... I don't even want to think about it."

Blaine wanted to give Kurt some kind of reassurance. He wanted to tell Kurt to not think about it, then, because it wasn't even a possibility. But to say that would've been a lie, and Blaine didn't want to lie. He hadn't lied in a long time, and he didn't want to start then.

So he nodded and said. "Okay. I'm sorry I stood on the ledge. I won't do it again."

That was honest. He wouldn't do it again. It wasn't the way he wanted to go, anyway.

Kurt sagged in relief, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Blaine, tucking his face into Blaine's neck. "I really love you, you know. I need you around."

"I love you too," Blaine said, because it was true.

If nothing else, Blaine loved Kurt. And if that was the only thing keeping him alive, well, at least it was something.

The door slid open then, Santana stepping in right behind them.

"Oh, god. What happened? What'd he do?" she asked.

Kurt pulled away and wiped at his eyes again. It was useless. Anyone could see he'd been crying. "It's nothing. We're-_I'm _okay now. Blaine?"

Blaine was so surprised that Kurt had separated them for once, all he could do was nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm-I'm okay."

"He's talking," Santana said, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, he's talking," Kurt agreed.

"I'm suicidal," Blaine added, because he was talking and it was true.

Santana looked at Kurt, eyes wide. "_What?"_

"I came home to him on the ledge of the fire escape. I talked him down. It's okay."

"Like hell it's okay! He was about to jump off the ledge! What the fuck is wrong with you?" She shoved Kurt in the chest, then focused on Blaine. "What the fuck is wrong with _you?"_

Blaine glanced over at Kurt before shrugging. "I don't know. A lot of stuff, apparently."

"Don't you ever do that again. I love you, alright? And if I love someone, it's serious. You better not do something like that again. I can't survive without you around. You hear me?"

Blaine wanted to say how unfair it was to put that kind of pressure on him. He should want to live because _he _wanted to live, not because other people need him around. But Santana seemed very sincere and well-meaning, so he just nodded.

"I'm depressed," he said, as if that explained everything.

Her entire being just slumped. Her face relaxed and she nodded. "Yeah, Blaine. I know."

"I just figured it out."

"Did you tell him?" Santana asked Kurt.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "I didn't realize he hadn't figured it out himself."

"I need therapy," Blaine told Santana seriously.

Santana pulled him in for a hug. "Yeah, Blaine. You do. But it's okay. I can't think of a single person who doesn't."

That, at least, made Blaine feel a little better.

Although he still felt like throwing himself over the edge of the fire escape.

"Can I go to bed now?" he asked.

Santana let him go, nodding. "Yeah. Go to bed. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Kurt followed Blaine into the bedroom. He watched as Blaine changed into one of the pajama sets he'd left there, getting underneath Kurt's covers and sheets and snuggling comfortably.

"Will you come to bed?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I'll be in soon. You won't even be asleep yet."

Blaine smiled, reaching out a hand. Kurt stepped over to Blaine and took the hand, kissing it before leaning down and kissing Blaine on the lips.

"I love you," Kurt told him. His tone was heavier than it had ever been when saying that.

"I love you too," Blaine said easily.

Kurt gave him a smile, but it looked forced. (Blaine knew what a forced smile looked like).

"I won't do it again," Blaine added.

Kurt nodded. "I know."

They were both lying.


	40. Take Me Home Tonight

_Summary: Reaction fic to 5x17, Opening Night. When Kurt and Blaine leave the bar and go back to Kurt's place, drunk and horny, one item still laying on Kurt's bed makes Blaine put the brakes on their fun. And no, it's not one of those sex toys Sue didn't find lying around. (Those are in a box under the bed)._

_Author's Note: I had to watch via a livestream tonight, and my connection was shotty at best. I barely saw the episode. So I'm ignoring that they never went home that night after the bar. And I'm going off of information from my best friend, Tony, or mister-antonio on tumblr._

_Fair warning: It's smut. Deal with it._

… … …

Kurt's only gotten drunk maybe a couple times in his life. _Maybe. _And both of which have been in New York. He hadn't let himself get drunk in Ohio because he always felt like no matter where he was, his dad would show up and slap the drink out of his hand and give him a lecture about how much he matters.

Anywho. Kurt's barely ever gotten drunk.

So when they go to the gay bar after Rachel's opening, he figures, what the heck? It's an occasion worth celebrating with a couple shots. Except after the first few shots, all he wants to do is take more. He's having so much fun that more shots seem like the thing to do.

Somewhere between grinding on Blaine on the couch, and the dance floor, and against the bathroom stall door, Kurt figures he took something like twelve shots. Rough estimate. His mind got too fuzzy and fun to keep counting after eight.

But he figures it had to have been more than eight because this walk home is hard. He keeps running into Blaine and stepping on Blaine's feet. He would still be at the bar right now, like everyone else, except Blaine wouldn't stop _begging _Kurt to let him fuck him while they were at the bar.

"_Jesus, _Kurt, if you don't stop rubbing your ass on my dick like that I'm going to rip your clothes off and fuck you right here."

That had been on one of the couches, next to Santana, and Kurt has a few kinks but he doesn't fancy himself an exhibitionist. At least not enough to let Blaine fuck him completely in public like that.

So they're on their way home. Sloppily.

Blaine is even more drunk than Kurt, if that's possible.

"This is so much fun, Kurt! We—we should go to a gay club every week!"

Kurt giggles, shoving Blaine lightly, which causes Blaine to run into the wall of the nearest building. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because we have respons-bibb-ilities." The pronunciation is off but Kurt shrugs. Blaine knows what he means.

"If we just go every Saturday night, then we can still be responsible! I do it!"

"If you _already _go every week, then why are you even asking?"

"Because I want _us _to go, silly."

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. "_You're _silly."

They make it back to Kurt's loft by some miracle and stumble up the stairs, sliding the door open. The second Kurt closes it, Blaine pins his wrists against the door and presses up close behind him, hard cock nudging between Kurt's ass even through the materials of their pants.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Blaine mumbles, nipping and kissing at the side of Kurt's neck.

Kurt moans. "Dear god, Blaine, _yes._"

"Gonna pound you into the mattress so hard you still feel me tomorrow."

"Jesus, Blaine, don't just say it. _Do it._"

That's all the cue Blaine needs. He lets go of Kurt's wrists and spins him around, kissing him openly and deeply with his hands keeping a tight grip on Kurt's biceps. It's wet and messy—all teeth and tongues. They're never this aggressive, and Blaine is never this rough. Kurt knows Blaine's hands are going to leave bruises on his arms. But he _likes _it. His drunken cock is responding eagerly to every harsh thing Blaine does.

Blaine pulls away and releases Kurt's arms to start walking backwards towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. The look he gives Kurt is all the direction Kurt needs to follow, working on taking off his own layers.

It's another miracle that Blaine doesn't trip as he's walking drunkenly backwards into the bedroom, but he makes it. Kurt absently remembers to close the curtain, force of habit more than anything, as he kicks off his pants, nearly naked now.

But Blaine's not stripping anymore. He's shirtless with his pants undone and staring at Kurt's bed.

Well, specifically, at Bruce.

Blaine turns to him. "You're sleeping with Bruce again?"

Kurt's tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he tries to get his mind to answer. "I—Yeah."

"But you have me."

"You moved out."

Damn it, there are the puppy eyes.

"But…you have me," Blaine repeats, like that solves everything. "What do you need him for?"

"Honey, you don't sleep in the same bed as me every night anymore. I can't sleep without cuddling. You know that."

Blaine sits on the bed and stares at the ground. Kurt's dick twitches impatiently in his underwear. He's still rock hard, but Blaine is preoccupied by a stupid pillow.

"Blaine, it's just a pillow."

"It's not. It means you're not getting what you need from me."

"Right now? No," Kurt says, gesturing to his crotch.

Blaine doesn't even laugh. "I'm being serious, Kurt. I thought moving out was the best thing for our relationship, but it just sucks. I hardly ever see you and when I do there are usually people around. We don't get to sleep next to each other every night anymore. I miss cuddling too, you know."

"Then move back in," Kurt says easily.

He's not sure he means it when he says it, but the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets. Blaine moving back in is the _obvious _answer that's going to solve so many of their problems! They've probably been fighting so much because they've lost the simple physical intimacy advantages of living together, like cuddling every night. And it's been easy for them to go to bed angry when they live in different places, which is never good.

Blaine moving back in is the obvious solution. It makes so much sense that Kurt wonders why it took him so long to suggest it in the first place.

"Really?" Blaine asks, looking up at Kurt with hopeful eyes.

Kurt nods. "Yeah. If you want to."

And suddenly, Blaine is back to his mood from before the pillow. He jumps up grinning and wraps his arms around Kurt, kissing him. "Yeah, of course I want to! But only if you're sure. I don't want this to ruin us."

"It won't. It's us! We're getting married. We have to learn to live together sometime."

"But what about this being less-than-ideal circumstances?"

"We're going to be in less-than-ideal circumstances for a while. It'll be a long while before we have the financial stability to live in a place more suited for us. I don't want to wait that long."

Blaine groans, holding Kurt's head in his hands and kissing all down the side of his neck. He looks up at Kurt, eyes smoldering. "God, I love it when you talk all domestic and future-y. Say financial stability again."

Kurt smirks. "Financial stability."

Blaine moans loudly and bites at Kurt's neck, guiding them both back to the bed. He pulls away to push Kurt down on the bad, landing on his back. Blaine crawls on top of him and grinds their hips together, kissing his way down Kurt's chest.

"Mortgages," Kurt says, testing. Blaine moans again and Kurt laughs, then gasps when Blaine sucks just above his navel. _"Oh, _Blaine."

"More," Blaine demands, voice low and gravelly.

Kurt throws his head back against the mattress, panting as Blaine starts mouthing at his dick through his cotton boxer briefs. "Joint checking account."

Blaine yanks Kurt's underwear down and sinks his mouth over the head of Kurt's dick, teasing him.

Kurt grabs a fistful of Blaine's hair that's loosened from its gel since the gay bar. "M—_marriage_," Kurt manages to say. It's all his brain can think of at the moment, the pressure of the engagement ring around his finger a constant, reassuring thought.

Blaine pulls off of Kurt's dick and grabs his wrists tightly, moving up the bed and pinning them above Kurt's head on the mattress.

"Say you're marrying me," Blaine says.

"I'm marrying you."

Blaine kisses him roughly, letting go of one of Kurt's wrists to shove his pants and underwear down mid-thigh. He returns the hand to Kurt's wrist and grinds his bare cock down against Kurt's, eliciting a moan from both of them.

"Oh, _fuck, _Blaine."

"Yeah?"

"_Yeah._"

They're sticky with sweat and overheated from the alcohol, but it feels good. Kurt loves them like this—loves when it's fucking. There's a difference between making love and fucking, he now knows, and he still hasn't decided which is his favorite. He feels obligated to say making love but _god _he loves it when they just _fuck. _

Blaine pushes up and scoots off of the bed completely, standing at the foot of it. He grabs Kurt's underwear and pulls them all the way off, shoving his own underwear and pants off completely.

"Turn over," he says.

Kurt does just that, perching his ass up in the air. He feels Blaine's hands on him, grabbing at the flesh. Kurt instinctively pushes his butt higher until he's on his knees, chest and arms still resting on the bed. He can't help moaning when Blaine nips at his the skin of his ass cheeks before moving his mouth to Kurt's hole.

And, _oh, _they haven't done that a whole lot. The few times they have, Kurt's liked it—both from the giving end and the receiving one—but for some reason it isn't something they've really explored.

But boy is Blaine exploring it now. Kurt pants and moans, unable to stop from whining when Blaine pushes his tongue past the ring of muscle. _"Blaine, god, don't stop." _Kurt feels Blaine's tongue push in further as one of Blaine's hands goes to cup his balls. "_Oh."_

He feels Blaine pull away and barely holds back a whimper. Blaine walks over to the bedside table and grabs for a bottle of lube and a condom from the drawer. They're both clean, but they still like to use condoms. Most of the time, anyway.

The mattress creaks a bit as Blaine climbs back on the bed, sitting up on his knees behind Kurt. There's the click of the lube bottle and then Kurt feels a slick finger circling his hole before dipping in. He bites his lip as Blaine pushes the finger in all the way.

"More," Kurt gasps. "Give me more."

Blaine laughs behind him and places a kiss on his lower back. "As you wish, sweetheart."

Kurt feels the first finger pull out before two fingers are being pushed in, no easing or working him open for it. Blaine just pushes them both in and starts scissoring them inside of Kurt, working him only for a few minutes before adding a third. Kurt is a babbling mess, coming completely undone before Blaine's even been inside of him.

"Y—you. I want you," Kurt says.

"Want me what, Kurt?"

Kurt moans. "Want you to fuck me."

Blaine pulls his fingers out and leans his face towards Kurt's, talking right into his ear. "Oh, I'm gonna fuck you alright. I'm gonna fuck you so hard the neighbors are gonna hear you scream."

Kurt barely has time to moan before he hears the condom wrapper tearing open, and only seconds later, the head of Blaine's cock is pressing against his entrance. Blaine pushes himself all the way in with one thrust, making Kurt jerk forward on the bed and moan.

_"Jesus, _Blaine."

"You wanted me to fuck you, right?"

"Yeah, _shit, _keep going. You can move."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Kurt says, nodding.

He props himself up on his forearms as Blaine pulls almost all the way out and pushes in again, thrusting hard. Blaine sets up a rhythm, fucking into Kurt rougher than usual. His hands go to Kurt's hips, gripping them so hard they're sure to leave bruises.

_"Fuck, _Kurt, how are you always so _tight?"_

"It's a—_oh_—gift."

"God, you're beautiful like this. So _fucking good, _taking my cock like this."

"_Oh, god." _Kurt feels every thrust deeper than the last, and when Blaine hits the right spot inside of him he make a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "_Fuck, _Blaine, _right there."_

"Touch yourself," Blaine tells him.

Kurt brings a hand down to circle around his dick, jerking himself shakily. He's still drunk and his hand can't keep the right grip or rhythm but _fuck _this feels better than any sex they've ever had.

"Fuck, I'm close," he says.

Blaine pants, leaning down so that his chest is resting against Kurt's back. He kisses at Kurt's shoulder blade sloppily. "Come, Kurt. I want you to come around me, with my dick inside you."

"_Yeah."_

It only takes a few more pumps of his hand before Kurt's body ripples with pleasure. He comes on the bed with a strangled moan of Blaine's name. Blaine's still fucking into him, but the rhythm becomes erratic as Blaine comes not even a minute later, swearing under his breath. He lets go of Kurt's hips and falls completely on top of Kurt's back. Kurt lets himself fall forward on the bed.

"Jesus, Blaine," Kurt says, still trying to catch his breath.

He feels Blaine nod against his back. "Yeah."

"That was—"

"I know. God, Kurt, you saying my name when you come."

"Yeah?"

"_Yeah."_

Blaine pulls slowly out of him, leaving Kurt's hole empty and clenching. He immediately misses the warmth and fullness of Blaine inside of him. Blaine rolls over onto his back next to Kurt. After a moment, Kurt feels Blaine reach over him and opens his eyes to see Blaine grab the boyfriend pillow, throwing it on the floor.

"Take _that, _Bruce."


	41. Drunk in Love

_Kurt and Blaine in NYC in the loft, drinking wine and having date night._

… … …

"Ooh, what's this?" Blaine asked, stepping through the loft door.

Kurt finished lighting the candle he'd set on the table and smiled, making his way over to Blaine. "Hi, honey," he said, kissing Blaine and taking his bag.

"Kurt, what is all this?" Blaine asked again, smiling too.

"This is for you. It's my way of saying I'm sorry, and thank you, and I love you."

"But why?"

"Because we've been fighting so much lately," Kurt told him, holding his hand and leading him to the table. "I think I've been neglecting you and your needs, simply because I didn't want to change the life I'd already made here. I wanted you to make your own life instead of adding you into mine. Which, both of those things are important, but you need to make more of an effort on the first and I need to make more of an effort on the latter."

Blaine knocked his forehead against Kurt's, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

"Sit, sit!"

Kurt pulled out a chair for Blaine, pushing him down into it. Blaine scooted forward, staring at the elaborate setting Kurt had made. A white linen table cloth, a centerpiece of red and yellow roses, their adorably mismatched plates and silverware, the two white taper candles. Blaine's chest warmed with affection for this man, catching the glint of the engagement ring on Kurt's finger in the candlelight.

"So where did you convince Rachel to go tonight?"

"No convincing necessary. She and Mercedes had already planned to have a sleepover at your apartment while Sam is at Artie's dorm participating in some video game tournament on Artie's floor."

"Everyone's gone?"

"Everyone's gone," Kurt confirmed, leaning down to kiss Blaine on the cheek as he brought dinner over to the table. "Okay, don't laugh, because this is my first time making this and I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out. If it sucks, don't tell me."

"Kurt, I'm fairly certain it's impossible for you to make something bad," Blaine told him, laughing.

"You weren't there for the first time I attempted souffle."

"I'm willing to bet you were under the age of ten."

"I was eight."

"Point proven."

Kurt nudged Blaine's shoulder as he sat down beside him. "Still."

Kurt spooned some of the confetti chicken pasta onto Blaine's plate before scooping some onto his own. He was just about to take a bite when he stood up. "Oh! I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" Blaine asked, openly staring at Kurt's ass as he leaned over in the fridge.

When Kurt turned around and caught Blaine's stare, he smirked. "Are you staring at my ass, Blaine?"

"I usually am," Blaine told him.

Kurt laughed. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"You really shouldn't be. Is that wine?"

"It is, indeed. A gift from Santana before she left with Brittany. I've been saving it for the right occasion." Kurt used the corkscrew to open the bottle before pouring them each a glass.

"When is she coming back, anyway?"

"No clue. She'll probably just show up without warning at some point. You know how she loves to make an entrance."

"I do." Blaine picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. "This is good."

"I know. A lot of younger people don't like Pinot Grigio because it's dry, but I think it can be really good if it's cold enough."

"Definitely."

They ate in relative quiet, sharing small touches and glances. Kurt ran the top of his foot up Blaine's calf, so Blaine smiled and slipped his hand onto Kurt's knee under the table, squeezing.

Neither of them had done much drinking, so their tolerances were still fairly low. Even with eating a full plate of pasta each, after a couple of glasses, they were more giggly and handsy. Blaine got a little sauce on his chin so Kurt leaned in and kissed it off sloppily, laughing. Blaine tilted his head down and captured Kurt's lips.

Then they got carried away and almost fell out of their chairs, which just made them laugh even harder.

"Stop it!" Kurt said, holding onto the edge of the table.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You wanted me to fall!"

"I did not! I was falling too!"

"So you were sabotaging both of us to try and shirk the blame! Sneaky, Anderson. Very clever."

"Oh my god, you're ridiculous."

"No, _you're _ridiculous."

"What a comeback."

"I know. I'm widely known for my wit and sharp tongue."

"Not right now," Blaine said, still chuckling. "Right now the wine has dulled your wit."

"Impossible."

"No, I'd say it's accurate."

"You're drunk too!" Kurt argued.

"Not as drunk as you!"

"Then we ought to fix that," Kurt said, getting up and going to the fridge. He turned back to the table with another bottle of wine.

Blaine shook his head. "I should have known there was a second bottle."

"It's Santana. Of course there's a second bottle. Will you open it for me?"

Blaine took the corkscrew and bottle of wine, opening it and pouring their glasses full again. He spilled some on the table. "Oops. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter. Are you done?" Kurt asked, gesturing to Blaine's plate.

Blaine nodded, so Kurt took the plate and set it on the counter before grabbing his glass and Blaine's hand. "Come on. Let's go sit on the couch."

"Okay."

They made their way over to the couch, but Kurt's steps were a little off-kilter and he ended up stubbing his toe against the foot of the armchair. He howled, hopping on one foot and falling onto the couch and spilling some of his wine. "Damn it!"

Blaine couldn't help laugh as he took Kurt's wine glass and set both on the table, pulling Kurt's feet into his lap. "Aww, honey, let me see."

"It hurts! Don't patronize me!"

"I'm not!" Blaine pulled Kurt's sock off, inspecting his toes very seriously. "Well, Mr. Hummel, it appears that this is worse than we hoped. We'll have to amputate."

"My toe?" Kurt gasped, bringing a hand to his chest.

"The whole foot, actually. Perhaps even the whole leg. We won't know until we get into the O.R."

"Oh, Dr. Anderson, there must be something you can do!"

"I'll do what I can, but I make no guarantees," Blaine said, rubbing his thumb smoothly over Kurt's toes.

Kurt broke character, pulling his foot away and giggling. "That tickles."

"Sorry," Blaine said, smiling. He grabbed Kurt's foot again anyway, giving him a massage.

"Mmm, that feels nice though."

"I'm glad."

"You've never given me a foot massage before."

"You've never given me one either."

"Well re-situate! We can give each other foot massages."

Blaine laughed, grabbing his wine glass to take a drink before scooting down the couch and leaning against the arm, putting his feet in Kurt's lap. Kurt took Blaine's shoes off and clucked his tongue. "Blaine, what have I told you about socks?"

"...That I should wear them?"

"You're going to ruin your shoes!"

"It's fine, Kurt!"

"What happened to the socks I bought you for Christmas?"

"They're...somewhere in my room."

"Blaine Devon Anderson I did not buy you those socks for you to stick them at the bottom of your underwear drawer. The next time I go over there I'm digging them out."

"You don't need an excuse to see my underwear, Kurt, all you have to do is ask," Blaine said, smirking.

Kurt smacked Blaine's foot. "This is a serious matter."

"Yes. Socks. Very serious. I'm so sorry."

"Stop it!"

"What?! I was agreeing with you!"

"You were being facetious."

"I was being supportive."

"Sarcastically supportive."

"Ah, but supportive all the same."

Kurt slapped the side of Blaine's leg, fixing him with a look. "You be nice to me. I've provided you with wine."

"No, _Santana _provided _both of us _with wine, which has affected you more than it has affected me."

"So drink more!"

Blaine laughed, grabbing his wine class again and taking a long drink, downing half the glass. "Happy?"

"Not quite," Kurt said, pushing Blaine's legs aside and climbing up Blaine's body. He settled on straddling Blaine's hips, leaning down and kissing him. Kurt's tongue almost immediately licked its way into Blaine's mouth. He grabbed the back of Blaine's head in both of his hands and kissed deeper, rolling his hips. Then he pulled away, smirking as Blaine tried to chase his mouth. "_Now _I'm happy."

"What, no more?"

"Not yet. All good things to those who wait."

"_Kuuuuurt."_

Kurt laughed, kissing the tip of Blaine's nose. "Well look at who's drunk."

"You, obviously."

"And you."

"Me? Drunk? Never!"

"Oh really? Need I remind you of the night you got drunk and made out with Rachel? Or the night you got drunk and begged me to fuck you in the backseat of a car in the middle of a gay bar parking lot?"

"Why must you bring these things up?" Blaine asked, pouting. "You know I feel bad about that."

"Please, you shouldn't. I've long forgotten your five minute fling with Rachel. And it was nice to know that you found me that attractive, even back in high school."

"I've always found you attractive, Kurt," Blaine told him. He reached up and brushed Kurt's hair back where it was starting to fall on his forehead. "Always."

Kurt rolled his eyes, sitting up and running his hands across the expanse of Blaine's chest. "You could not have found me attractive during my Warbler days."

"Well I did."

"You're a liar."

"I'm not," Blaine insisted, shaking his head. "The first time I laid eyes on you, my jaw dropped."

"It did not! I was there!"

"It did! It was small. I composed myself quickly. I didn't want to come off as a creep."

Kurt's hands slid to the hem of Blaine's shirt and slipped under, running over Blaine's skin. "You're exaggerating." He brushed his thumbs over Blaine's nipples and smirked in satisfaction at Blaine's sharp intake of air. He ran his hands down Blaine's sides and squeezed at his hips. "And hard," Kurt noted.

"Well, yeah, what do you expect?"

"I don't know, sometimes alcohol can inhibit a man's ability to get it up."

"I cannot think of a single scenario in which I would have that problem with you."

"Good to know."

"Pass me the wine?"

Kurt reached over and grabbed Blaine's glass, handed it to him, then grabbed his own. He gulped most of it down before taking a break, then finished the glass, wiping his mouth. Blaine raised his eyebrows at him before taking the last few sips of his own wine.

"What?" Kurt asked, laughing.

"Nothing. I've just never seen you drunk before."

Kurt shrugged. "This is part of the package, buddy. Take it or leave it."

"Oh, I'll take it. Definitely. You're amusing when you're drunk."

"Am I?" Kurt asked. He slid down Blaine's legs and leaned his face just over Blaine's belly. He lifted Blaine's shirt and pressed a kiss above the waistband of Blaine's pants, undoing the button and zipper. "Do I still amuse you, Blaine?"

Blaine gasped, hips bucking into the air. "_Kurt."_

"Yes?"

"Can we take this to the bedroom?"

"Why not stay here? We have the whole loft to ourselves until tomorrow morning."

"You want to have sex on the couch?"

"Why not? It could be fun."

"I _have_ always wanted to ride you on this couch," Blaine trailed off thoughtfully, sweeping a hand over the back cushion.

Kurt smirked. "Oh yeah?" He pushed off of Blaine completely and sat up against the couch, patting his lap. "Come 'ere, then."

Blaine grinned and stood up, slipping off his pants completely and straddling Kurt's waist, kissing him hard.

On cue, the door slid open, the tell-tale clacking of heels alerting them both to Santana's arrival. Blaine groaned and pulled away, leaning his forehead against Kurt's collarbone. Kurt glared at her over Blaine's shoulder.

"I really shouldn't be surprised you'd show up right now."

"Don't pretend you didn't miss me," Santana said. "But I can see you're busy, so don't mind me. I'll just have a seat. You two can continue." She left her bags by the door and sat in the armchair, crossing her legs and smiling at them.

"Make her go away," Blaine whined.

"Go away, Santana. Blaine and I are supposed to have the loft to ourselves tonight."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"Rachel and Mercedes are having a sleepover at the other apartment. Go join them."

"I'd rather have sex with Puck again, and despite what you probably heard in high school, not that good." Her eyes drifted from the couch over to the coffee table. "Oh, I see you made use of the wine I got you. You're welcome."

Blaine whipped his head around and said, "Santana, I'm drunk and horny and all I wanna do is fuck myself on my fiancé's dick. So you're going to walk out on your own or I'm going to shove you out the door. Either way, you're not staying here."

Santana raised her eyebrows, looking impressed. "Alright, alright. I respect that, Anderson. I respect your need for sex. I've actually seen Hummel's dick. Don't hurt yourself."

"He likes it rough," Kurt said, digging his fingers into Blaine's hips and biting at Blaine's shoulder. Blaine moaned and rolled his pelvis, proving Kurt's point.

Santana touched a hand to her chest as she stood up. "You two make me so proud." Then she walked to the door, grabbed her purse, and left.

Blaine sighed in relief, grabbing Kurt's hands from his hips and leading them to his ass, slipping them inside his underwear. "Now where were we?"


	42. Share My Life

_Prompt: A Klaine fight where they're planning their wedding and Kurt gets pissed at Blaine for something and the fight builds up, Kurt mentions Blaine being clingy and Blaine tells Kurt that he's been such a jerk lately. It gets so bad that they consider calling off the engagement. Kurt even takes off the ring and gives it to Blaine. Cue Blaine depressed for weeks while Kurt's upset, but not life threateningly so. It all comes to a head when Kurt finds Blaine on a bridge, about to jump._

_I deviated from the prompt a little bit. Oh well!_

… … …

"Have you thought about the guest list at all?"

Blaine shrugged. "I was just going to trust you with that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What if I decided not to invite someone you like?"

"Like who?"

"Sebastian."

Blaine snorted and rolled his eyes. "I hardly think he'll be missed."

Kurt kicked at Blaine's thigh with his foot, trying to get his undivided attention. Blaine sat at the end of the couch, reading a book for class, while Kurt lay spread out on the couch, feet by Blaine's lap.

"Okay, then, like, Cooper."

"He's _in _the wedding, Kurt. Besides, you get along with him better than I do. I doubt you're going to forget to invite 'The Best-Looking Man in North America' to our wedding."

"We've gone over that! I was star-struck! You can't blame me!" Kurt said, kicking Blaine again.

Blaine laughed. "Yeah, okay. Star-struck over my brother who has been in exactly one commercial."

"He said he's on the short list to star in a new TV series!"

"When did he say that?"

"Last week."

"When did you talk to my brother last week?"

"When I was getting his address to mail his invitation."

"A-ha! So you are inviting him! This whole conversation is moot."

"Blaaaaaine," Kurt whined, kicking him again.

Blaine slapped Kurt's feet away. "Quit kicking me! I'm trying to get work done."

"So am I! Help me plan the wedding. This is for both of us, not just me. Don't you have anybody you want there that I don't know about? Cousins or friends from Westerville?"

Blaine closed his book and set it on the coffee table, pulling his feet up on the couch and giving Kurt his attention. "No. I don't. I don't have any friends from Westerville or any cousins I really care about. The only people I would want at the wedding, you know. You have all the contact information to the Warblers I still talk to, and my parents-who will have information for my grandparents, even though they won't come-and Cooper. So, no, I haven't thought about the guest list, because I know you have it under control."

"You really think your grandparents won't come?"

"No. They're all extremely homophobic. If you think my parents are bad, you have no idea. My grandparents stopped recognizing me as part of the family after I came out. I highly doubt they're going to go to their disowned grandson's wedding to another man."

Kurt gave Blaine a sympathetic look and crawled over to him, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't know."

"It's okay. You know I don't really like to talk about my family," Blaine said.

"Well they're going to be my family too, soon."

Blaine frowned. "No, I don't want to think about it that way. You are the one good thing in my life and I don't want you mixing with the bad. We'll make our own family, our own Hummel clan."

"Anderson-Hummel." At the look Blaine gave him, Kurt added on, "Or Hummel-Anderson. We can figure that out."

"Kurt, I don't want Anderson to be any part of us. I just want to take your last name and become a Hummel."

"But..." Kurt trailed off, frowning. He pushed away a little bit on the couch to give them both space. "Blaine, you've been an Anderson for 19 years of your life. You can't just ignore that."

"I can and I am. My family means nothing to me, Kurt. Apart from Cooper, I'd rather not have anything to do with them."

"But they're your family."

"By what definition? Blood? So because of science I'm forced to love these people? These people who have done nothing but tear me down my entire life?"

"It wasn't always that bad, Blaine."

"How do you know?" Blaine asked, standing up. "How do you know what my childhood was like? You weren't there."

"No, but you've told me stories. Happy ones where your parents are kind and loving."

"And how many of those have you heard? Two? Maybe four, tops? I only ever tell you the good stuff, Kurt, because I don't want you hearing the bad stuff. I don't want you hearing that my mother left me in the car alone for over an hour when I was two years old because she didn't want me bothering her while she went to the store. Or how my dad used to lock me in my room-literally, with a key-when guests were over because it was 'adult time.' Oh, but it's okay, because they threw a juice box and sleeve of saltines at me before shutting the door, so at least I wasn't starved."

"Blaine..."

Blaine laughed humorlessly, shaking his head as he walked away. "Exactly. Don't try to talk to me about my family, Kurt, because you don't know the half of it."

He headed into the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. He heard footsteps behind him before hands fell on his shoulders.

"What are you looking for?" Kurt asked softly.

"I don't know. A distraction."

Kurt took a deep breath and said, "Blaine, I know your family hasn't always been the best. They've made rotten parenting decisions with you. But they didn't abuse you, and in their own way, they still love you."

"Are you kidding?" Blaine asked, stepping away. He frowned at Kurt, mouth open. "No, seriously, are you joking right now? Is this a test? To see how far you can push me or something? Is this a punishment for hurting you?"

"What? Blaine, no."

"Then why won't you leave this alone?"

"Because it's about family. You know how important family is to me."

"Okay, well, it's not to me. Not blood family, anyway. I've chosen my family. I have you and Sam and Rachel and Santana, and even Artie and Mercedes. You guys here are my family. As far as I'm concerned, outside of Cooper, I don't have blood-related family."

"Then why would you even bother inviting them to the wedding?"

"Because it's important to you."

"Because they're your _family._"

"They're not, Kurt!" Blaine sighed and ran a hand over his gelled hair. "God, why do you have to be so difficult about this? What does it matter to you whether I get along with my family or not? We're starting our own. All I need is you and I'm fine."

"You have to have other people, Blaine. Your whole world can't revolve around me."

"Oh, and here we go again," Blaine said, shaking his head and walking away.

Kurt followed him, stopping him in the middle of the living space. "Would you stop walking away from me? I'm trying to talk to you."

"No, you're going to tell me how clingy I've been lately-_again-_and tell me that I need to branch out and make more friends. Because we haven't had _that _conversation enough."

"This has nothing to do with that! This is about you depending too heavily on me! Blaine, I love you, but I need space to _breathe. _You can't put that kind of pressure on me."

"What pressure? You being my family? I'm sorry, I thought that came with the territory of getting married. I thought us creating our own family was kind of the _point._"

"That's not what I meant," Kurt said firmly.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Of course it's not. Because I'm always twisting your words and turning everything around. Crazy, psycho Blaine! Always making drama that's not there!"

"Right now? Yes."

"_God, _you know what Kurt? Sometimes you can be a real jerk."

"I'm a jerk? Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, how am I a jerk? For pushing you to make friends? To make your own life here? To make things better with your family? Wow, yeah, I'm terrible."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know anything about my family."

"And I wonder why that is. Oh, wait, because you've never _told me. _You can't expect me to read your mind and magically know all about your experiences with your family! From what I've seen, your parents have made an effort to be there for you. Whenever I've gone over to your house, they've been polite. Cold, maybe, but polite enough. I've endured worse."

"When did this become about you?"

"It's about both of us."

"No, it's about _my _family and the way _you _disapprove of me. Just like they do."

"You are severely overreacting."

"Right, of course, there I go being a crazy psycho again," Blaine snapped, turning around and stomping off towards the bedroom.

Kurt followed him again. "_Stop walking away from me! I'm talking to you!"_

"No, you're patronizing me. You're telling me about my family and when I don't agree you act like I'm some heartless person." Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and glared at Kurt. "I am _not _a heartless person for feeling this way about my family. They didn't talk to me for _five months _after I came out. _Five months. _I was fourteen years old. We lived in the same house, for god's sake. They pretended I didn't exist. And the only reason they started talking to me was because I got beat up at Sadie Hawkins and ended up in the hospital."

"And after that, they tried harder for you," Kurt said. "Yes, you've told me about this. You said they tried harder to be more accepting. You told me that they realized if they kept ignoring you they could lose you forever and they didn't want that. Because beneath all the other bullshit, they are still your parents, and they still love you."

Blaine bit his lip, staring down at his lap and nodding before looking up and meeting Kurt's eyes. "Thank you so much for that, Kurt. You are absolutely right. My parents love me more than anyone on the planet. More than you, even. I can't believe I didn't see it before. You have opened my eyes. How can I ever thank you?"

Kurt set his jaw and crossed his arms, hands balling into fists. "That is entirely unnecessary."

"It's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

"If you think this is only about you and your relationship with your parents, you aren't listening to me at all."

"Oh, really? Then enlighten me. What is this _really _about?"

"This is about us! This is about our family! Your parents made a mistake, Blaine. A series of them for a long time. But then they turned around and they _tried. _Yet you refuse to let go of things and move on. What does that say about our future family? Our kids are going to make a million mistakes, Blaine. Is there some limit, for you? Are you just going to cut them off after a certain point? And what about me? What if we have a big fight somewhere down the line and we don't talk for days? Will that be it, then? You'll just divorce me and cut me out of your life?"

"My relationship with my parents has nothing to do with our future family."

"If you aren't willing to reconcile with them, it says something about your sense of loyalty."

"My sense of _loyalty? _So now my character is being called into question? Because I have crappy parents."

"No, because I've never seen you be loyal to anything in your life."

Blaine stood from the bed and took a step toward Kurt. "_Excuse me?"_

"What, is that surprising? I mean, you did cheat on me."

Blaine flinched. "When will you stop bringing that up?"

"No, you stop that. You don't get to play the victim here. Why does it bother you so much when I bring that up? It's true. It happened. You slept with someone else while we were together."

"I thought you forgave me."

"I thought family meant something to you."

They both took a step back and paused, taking deep breaths. Blaine shook his head, biting his lip. "If that's how you feel, maybe we should call off the engagement."

"Right, because we have one fight and all of a sudden we're not getting married anymore," Kurt bit out. Blaine opened his mouth to answer but Kurt cut him off. "Fine. But I'm not giving up on this. I am in love with you, even when you infuriate me. And you need to decide if you feel the same. Here." Kurt pulled the ring off of his left ring finger and grabbed Blaine's hand, slapping it down in Blaine's palm and closing his hand. "I think it's best if you go now. You let me know when you've decided if you want to work this stupid fight out."

Blaine took a deep breath, holding the ring in his hand, and left.

... ... ...

The second Blaine left, Kurt knew he'd made a mistake. The whole stupid fight was a mistake. He shouldn't have pushed, he should have just let it go. But he couldn't, not when it was about something important.

It was about more than inviting Blaine's parents to the wedding or what their last name would be. It was about Blaine handled confrontation. Even during the fight, he kept walking away. Blaine always ran away from his problems, always stowed them away in a box and moved on with his life. Which, Kurt would admit, had its upsides, but not when it came to family. Even after the whole "faggy lamp" debacle, Kurt never cast Finn away. Finn was his brother, and always would be, no matter what.

Family _meant something _to Kurt, and it didn't to Blaine, and that was a problem.

After he heard the door slide shut, Kurt collapsed. He let himself cry the tears he'd been holding back when Blaine was there and fell onto his bed. Rachel came home sometime later and tried to comfort him, but she'd never been very good at that. She often made it about her and after the fight he'd had with Blaine he really didn't want to hear it.

Still, she made him tea and left it by his bed with cookies, and that was nice. He thought that maybe he didn't always give her enough credit.

Santana was a different story entirely. The second she came through the door she called out, "Alright, where are you?"

Kurt heard Rachel pipe up, "I'm in here!" from her room.

"Not you, dwarf." Kurt's curtain was tugged aside. He turned his head to glare at Santana, but she was unperturbed. "You. What'd you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did Blaine call me a couple hours ago crying his eyes out over some stupid fight with you?"

"I don't know, why _did _he call you? Since when are you two close?" Kurt asked, pushing up on his bed.

Santana kicked off her heels and sat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "That doesn't concern you. What does concern you is your mess of a fiancé bawling his eyes out in the middle of the diner. After he called, I told him to come and wait until my shift ended, but the second he got there Gunther practically shoved us both out the door. Which means my shift was cut short, which means you don't get the full amount of rent money this month."

"You don't pay rent at all."

"I was going to start, but now I don't want to. What'd you do to Blaine?"

"We got into a fight, okay? Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh, wow, I never would've guessed that." Santana grabbed Kurt's pillow and hit him on the head with it. "Elaborate."

Kurt frowned and took the pillow from her, shoving her off the edge of his bed. "Go away. I don't have to talk to you if I don't want to. In case you haven't noticed, Blaine's not the only one upset."

Santana paused, then, and studied Kurt's face. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "Fine. Kurt, I'm sorry I ignored your feelings. Now please tell me what happened so that I can help you two idiots put this thing back together."

"Did he say we're broken up?" Kurt asked softly, tears springing to his eyes again.

Santana sat back down and placed a hand on Kurt's knee. "He said he didn't know what you guys were, but that you gave him the ring back, so he's been freaking out that you guys are done with. I told him that it's not possible, because I've never seen any two people love the way you two do. I was right, wasn't I?"

Kurt pursed his lips and nodded. "I hope so."

... ... ...

A week.

It had been a week since The Fight. A week since Blaine had heard from or seen Kurt. A week since he'd gone to class, or gotten out of bed, or done anything really.

Santana was a lifesaver. She was always bringing him food and-somehow-his homework.

"How are you even getting this stuff? You don't go to NYADA."

"I told them I'm your half-sister and your cancer has come back and you need to work from home for a while."

Blaine's eyes widened from where he lay in bed. "Santana, I don't have cancer."

"I know."

"You can't just lie about something like that."

"I lied about being your half-sister." Blaine sighed and rolled over, facing the wall. Santana placed a hand on his hip. "Blaine, you can't hide in this bed forever. Kurt said he doesn't want to give up on you. It's not over."

"It was a really big fight, Santana. You weren't there. You don't know."

"I've talked to both you and Kurt about it. You're both miserable. You guys just need to talk to each other."

"I can't. He doesn't trust me. He thinks I'm disloyal."

"You both said some things you shouldn't have, Blaine. It's what happens. Couples fight. But you have to work through it. That's what marriage is."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't want to marry me anymore."

"_You _called off the engagement," Santana pointed out softly.

Blaine looked over his shoulder at her. "He took off the ring," he said. Then he rolled over again and made it clear he was done talking about it, so Santana left.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't appreciate her help. He did. And he loved that sometimes she would kick off her heels and climb into bed with him and hold him, but it wasn't the same, and they both knew it.

And so it went. Blaine knew he was overreacting. He knew it was stupid to fall into bed and stay there just because he had a fight with his fiancé. He knew he should get up, should call Kurt, should try to work it out. But Kurt had made it clear that he never truly trusted Blaine to begin with, and now Blaine couldn't help but question their entire relationship.

Did Kurt always think he was disloyal, or was that a result of the Eli thing? Had Kurt always thought Blaine was a stubborn asshole for not reconciling with his parents or was that a new development? How long had Kurt been waiting to say something? What else had he been holding back?

Nothing made sense anymore. And he knew-he _knew _that it was unhealthy to be so attached to Kurt. He knew that he shouldn't depend so heavily on another person the way he did on Kurt. But he couldn't help it. He'd had such a crappy experience with the people who were supposed to love him that the second Kurt came along, Blaine knew that was it. His only shot.

And he'd blown it.

Of course, Santana showing up a few hours later that night with a bottle of tequila helped.

"Here. In my experience, people are the most honest when they're drunk. So tonight I'm getting you drunk and then tomorrow I'm getting Hummel drunk and then I'm going to fix this stupid mess once and for all."

Blaine honestly didn't care what Santana's plan was. He just wanted the alcohol. So he sat up and grabbed the bottle, tipping it to his lips and taking a sip, which he promptly choked on. "God, this stuff is awful."

"Put your big boy pants on and get used to it."

Blaine rolled his eyes and passed the bottle back to Santana. "Here. You chug some then."

"Fine." Santana took three big gulps and smiled. "There."

"How do you do that?"

"Years of practice."

Blaine thought there was something sad about that.

They passed the bottle back and forth for a while, and after an hour, Blaine couldn't even taste it anymore.

"This isn't bad," he said.

Santana laughed. "I'm glad you think that now."

The world was really off kilter, and the room was tilted sideways, and his head felt like a giant wad of bubblegum, but for the most part Blaine felt fine. He could still function, surely.

"So, tell me about the fight," Santana said.

Blaine frowned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's the whole point to this, Blaine. Fess up."

"No."

"Blaine."

"I said no," Blaine snapped. "I don't want to talk about it. Maybe you like to get drunk and talk all about your problems about how your mommy and daddy didn't love you enough and their stupidity ruined the one true and real relationship you'll ever have, but not me."

Santana's mouth fell open before she shut it again, yanking the bottle from his hand. "You're a mean drunk."

"Yeah, well, this is your fault."

"You're right. So tell me about the fight."

"God, just leave me the fuck alone, alright? I messed up. I messed it up. I got too defensive about my family even though I don't _care _about them. And he got mad because I hate my parents-like it was some personal offense to him. Like I was some spoiled brat because my parents are assholes and I choose not to ignore that."

"Maybe you are," Santana said. "Kurt lost his mom. He doesn't get to have the whole family picture you do. Did that ever occur to you? Maybe he's jealous that you have the chance at having your whole family together, as it should be, and you're wasting it because you're mad over how they treated you years ago."

Blaine glared at her. "You don't even know the whole story."

"Kurt also lost his brother. He's surrounded by the loss of his family, Blaine. That's why it's so important to him. Because he realizes how precious it is. And watching you throw it away probably makes him feel like you take it for granted, what you have."

"He doesn't know what I have," Blaine said. "He doesn't know how my parents really are."

"So tell me."

Blaine shook his head, looking away and grabbing the tequila bottle. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't like thinking about it. My parents were awful people for the first fourteen years of my life. Just because they had some epiphany that they should love me after I got beaten up by three random guys in a parking lot doesn't mean I'm ready to accept that love. It's not fair. They can't ask me to, and neither can Kurt."

He took a gulp and then held the bottle out to Santana, almost empty. She took it and emptied it down her throat, then nodded to Blaine. "Okay. Okay."

... ... ...

"Why are we doing this?" Kurt asked.

Santana held out the bottle again. "Because it's vodka, and you strike me as a vodka type of guy."

"I don't want to get drunk with you. I don't want to get drunk at all, really. I just want to focus on this paper."

"Ugh, don't." Santana closed Kurt's laptop and yanked him up from the chair. "Come on. You know you want to."

"I cannot accurately express to you how much I don't."

"Blaine did it."

Kurt paused. "Blaine got drunk?"

"He did. Last night. We shared a bottle of tequila."

"Did he talk about me?"

"I can't tell you."

"What'd he say?"

"Nuh-uh. I tell you what, Hummel, for every shot you take I'll answer a question."

Kurt groaned but went into the kitchen anyway and grabbed a couple of shot glasses. "Fine." He sat down on the sofa and set them on the coffee table, then patted the spot next to him. "Come on, then. Bring the vodka, Satan."

"That's what I like to hear."

Santana poured them each a shot and they both knocked them back. Kurt sputtered and gasped.

"Yeah, that's about what Blaine did with his first shot," Santana said.

Kurt pushed her. "Did he talk about me?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"That costs another shot."

Kurt sighed and grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another shot and knocking it back. He coughed and stuck out his tongue, grimacing. "God fucking damnit that's awful. What did he say?"

"He said he messed up his relationship with you because his parents didn't love him enough."

Kurt frowned. "He did not."

"Well, in a way he did," Santana shrugged. "He said it about me, but I know he was talking about himself."

"What else?"

"Another question, another shot."

"Oh, come on. That's the same question."

"I don't make the rules, Kurt."

"Except you do. That's exactly what you're doing."

Santana crossed her legs and gestured to the bottle. "Drink up."

Kurt huffed but took another shot. "Okay. What else did he say?"

"He said you can't force him to care about his family just because you lost half of yours. He said you can't ask him to accept his parents' love after they treated him like shit for fourteen years just because he got bashed in a parking lot. He said it's not fair to ask that of him."

Kurt frowned. He didn't know Blaine's backstory—anything about his childhood, really—but if it was that bad, Kurt wasn't sure he agreed with himself anymore. He grabbed the bottle and poured another shot, only slightly reacting as it went down.

"What's your question?" Santana asked.

"I didn't have one. I just needed another shot."

Santana reached over and grabbed his hand. "Kurt, I don't know what went down in Blaine's house when he was a kid, but it seems like it was pretty bad. I don't want to put abuse on the table, but neglect, definitely. I kind of see his point. I don't think you can call him disloyal just because he doesn't get along with his parents, and you definitely can't predict how he'll be in the future because of that. Blaine's right. It isn't fair."

"I'm right too, though," Kurt said stubbornly. "You have a point, and so does he, but I'm right too. I get some say in this. It's not just about him anymore, it's about both of us. And he refused to acknowledge that. He shut me out, and that's not fair to me. I don't know about his childhood because he won't tell me, and I don't know about his parents because he never talks to me about them. He can't keep shutting me out. We're getting married. Or at least, we were."

Santana patted Kurt's hand before pulling away. "You are."

Kurt nodded, not bothering to pour the vodka into a shot glass and drinking it straight from the bottle. "Thanks, Santana."

"Don't mention it."

… … …

Another week passed without any interaction with Kurt, and Blaine was starting to wonder if maybe it really was over. Santana had said it wasn't, but what did she know? She was drunk half the time anyway. All she did was bring over booze and snacks. Which Blaine was fine with; he liked getting drunk. It made the sight of Kurt's engagement ring sitting on his bedside table next to his silent phone easier to bear.

Santana continually urged Blaine to call Kurt, but he couldn't. He didn't know why. It had been two weeks and Blaine was going out of his mind, but he didn't think he should call. He still didn't feel like he was completely in the wrong, though he was beginning to see Kurt's side of things, but he was scared that maybe Kurt didn't understand his side yet. So he'd wait. And Kurt would call.

Except Kurt never did.

"You're both being idiots," Santana told him. "He literally said to me that he wants you to call him."

"He'll call when he's ready," Blaine said, curling the sheets tighter around his shoulders.

"_He is ready! _That's what I just fucking said! God, you two are impossible!"

"Yeah, that's kind of how we got to this point."

Santana tugged hard on the sheets, pulling them off Blaine's body. "Get up."

"Hey!"

"I said get up! You're not doing this anymore! You're not going to wallow in self-pity over a fight neither of you want to have anymore! Get your stupid, idiotic ass into the shower. You reek."

Blaine frowned at her. "That was mean."

"Don't make me strip you naked right here and take you in there myself."

Blaine ignored her, so Santana gripped his pants and boxers at the waist and tugged down, bringing them both to his knees. Blaine's hands immediately went to covering his dick.

"_SANTANA!"_

"_I SAID GET THE FUCK UP! YOU'RE NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE!"_

"Just leave me alone!" Blaine shouted, standing up to pull his clothes back on. Before he could fall back into bed, Santana pushed him away from it in the direction of the door, out into the hall and down to the bathroom.

"Take a fucking shower!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You can't make me!"

"Fucking watch me," she snarled, shoving him into the bathroom. She tugged his pants down again and pushed him towards the shower.

Blaine yanked his pants back up and glared at her. "I swear to god if you take off my clothes one more time I'm calling the police."

"Right, yeah, you totally have a case. What are you going to say? Your out lesbian best friend was trying to take your clothes off? That's believable. Get in the shower and clean yourself up and I'm taking you over to Kurt's and you two are going to sort this whole stupid thing out."

"I'm not going over there."

"I'm done negotiating."

She walked out of the bathroom and shut the door. Blaine sighed and stripped his clothes, stepping into the shower. It was no use. She wasn't going to let him out until he showered. So, he did, and when he was done, he knocked on the door.

"I took a shower. Let me out now."

She cracked the door before opening it all the way. "Thank god you shaved. You looked homeless."

"Shut up."

He got dressed in a pair of plain black slacks and a solid, navy, short-sleeved button up. He considered putting on a bowtie but it didn't feel right, so he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his keys and wallet, pushing past her outside his door.

"Going to Kurt's?" She asked.

"Sure," he lied.

"Great. I'll go with you."

He spun around and put a hand to her shoulder. "No. I want to go alone."

"I'm not dumb, Blaine. If you go alone, you won't go at all."

"If you come with me, I won't go at all. I'll go back up to my room and get back in bed."

Santana sighed. "Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?"

"I learned from the best."

So Blaine left. Alone. He stepped into the cool night air for the first time in two weeks. He didn't have a destination in mind, really. He knew he couldn't go to Kurt's—not yet. So he just walked down the street, taking random turns at random corners. Without even realizing it, eventually he'd walked so far he wound up at the Brooklyn Bridge.

He'd never been able to think of the Brooklyn Bridge and not be reminded of the amount of suicides that took place there yearly. It made him shiver to think about. He'd been depressed for weeks—ever since his fight with Kurt—but he'd never take his own life. It wasn't worth it.

His uncle did, though. He remembered that. When he was four years old, his mom's brother shot himself. The household was never the same after that. His mother closed off completely, and his father followed suit, more concerned for his wife than his kids. Cooper graduated after a few years and got to escape, but Blaine was stuck with them in that stifling house.

He walked along the side of the bridge, keeping a hand on the railing. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to, but he didn't care. If someone came he'd feign innocence. In that moment, Blaine just needed to be alone with his thoughts on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Cars honked as they passed him. He didn't pay them any mind; too lost in thoughts of Kurt and their fight. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he could've given his parents another shot. They were awful, yes, but they had their own lives before him, and with him. His mom had lost her brother to suicide. Maybe she just didn't know how to handle it. Maybe no one did. Maybe they did the best they could. Maybe they just lost themselves in their own worlds and forgot that they had kids to look after.

It was too much to consider. Blaine had given up on his family long ago. He locked them away in a compartment of his brain that he stored all the hopeless causes of his life. He didn't want to reopen it.

But he had to. For Kurt.

He stopped walking and stuck his feet on the bottom rungs of the railing, balancing on them and looking over the water. It just looked black in the night. The soft waves reflected the moonlight, and Blaine thought it'd make a pretty picture.

His phone started ringing in his pocket, and after seeing that it was Kurt calling, he put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Kurt's voice was frantic. _"Blaine! Where are you? Santana told me you were on your way here over an hour ago."_

"Has it really been that long?" he asked, more talking to himself. Then he answered, "Um, on the Brooklyn Bridge."

He heard Kurt gasp. _"If you're trying to jump, please don't. I'm getting in a cab and I'll be there soon. Just please don't jump."_

"Okay," Blaine said.

"_I'm on my way now. Just don't hang up, okay? And don't jump."_

"Okay," Blaine said again.

Soon enough a cab that had passed by stopped a little past him and the door flew open. He hung up his phone as Kurt ran towards him.

"Blaine, get down from there!"

"Why?"

"It's dangerous, honey. Just please get down." Kurt's tone had gone softer now, more placating.

Blaine frowned but stepped down. Kurt immediately threw his arms around him, holding him tightly. "God, what were you _thinking_?"

"About you, mostly."

"You were going to kill yourself over me?" Kurt asked, pulling back. "Why would you think that's a good idea?"

"What? No. I didn't. I wasn't doing that. I was just looking at the water. I wasn't killing myself."

Kurt blinked. "But—Santana said you've been in bed for two weeks. That you haven't gone anywhere or done anything. That you've been too depressed. And I haven't seen you around and I just—I was worried."

"Oh. I mean, that's all true, but I wasn't committing suicide. I was thinking about my uncle who did, actually."

"Your uncle committed suicide?"

"Yeah. My mom's brother. When I was four. I think that probably has a lot to do with my childhood."

"Blaine, we don't need to talk about that," Kurt said, shaking his head. "If it's going to cost me you, I don't want to hear it. If you want to keep it to yourself that's fine. I just need you."

"I thought that was unhealthy. To depend on another person like that."

"Then we're an unhealthy couple, I guess. I'd like to see a healthy one, though. I think every couple has their own unhealthy tendencies."

"So we're a couple?"

Kurt pulled Blaine in again, holding him tightly. "Yes, Blaine. Yes, of course. We had a fight, that's all."

"We didn't talk for two weeks."

"I was scared you were mad at me."

"I was."

"I didn't think you'd see my side."

"I didn't, honestly. Not until just now."

"Because of your uncle?" Kurt asked, brushing a hand down Blaine's face. "Honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

Blaine shrugged. "I hadn't thought about him in a long time. I didn't know him, really. It never occurred to me that he might be a reason for a lot of the things that happened in my childhood."

"Look, I'm sorry I pushed you, but I still hold my beliefs, Blaine. Family is important to me and _you _are important to me. I don't want you to keep shutting me out. I want you to feel comfortable enough to talk about your life with me, but if there are some things you want to keep to yourself, I understand that. I'm sorry I judged what you're going to be like in the future based on your past. You didn't deserve that. I know that you're a good person and you're loyal and I know that you'll always be loyal to me and our future family."

Blaine smiled and pulled Kurt in again, burying his face in Kurt's neck. "Thank you." He stayed there for a while, allowing himself the luxury of being held by his fiancé, before pulling back and meeting Kurt's eyes. "And I'm sorry for shutting you out. It's…difficult for me to acknowledge a lot of the things that happened in my house when I was growing up. I have such a good thing with you now that I try not to dwell on it. But I understand you wanting to know, wanting me to let you be a part of that. I can't guarantee that I'll be better, but I'll try."

"That's all I ask. And the next time we have a fight, we can't go into silence. We can't just ignore each other. That was a bad decision on my part, too, but it goes both ways. We can't end communication just because we're mad. We _have _to learn to work through these things, Blaine."

"I know. I agree."

"So no more ignoring each other?"

"No more ignoring each other."

"Good." Kurt took Blaine's hand and walked down the bridge. "You still have my ring, right?"

"Of course."

"Can I have it back?"

"If you truly want it."

Kurt stopped and frowned. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," Blaine shrugged. "I kind of feel like I forced you into it. Like I was just trying to make sure you wouldn't leave me, so I put a ring on your finger as soon as we got back together to make sure you wouldn't go anywhere. I don't want you to feel pressured into a commitment you're not ready for."

"I don't feel pressured. If I did, I wouldn't have said yes at all. I want the ring back because I want to marry you, Blaine. Whether we elope and get married tomorrow at the courthouse, or wait a few years to get married down the line when we're both done with school. It doesn't matter to me. I've already committed to spending the rest of my life with you. The wedding is just an excuse to have a party to celebrate that."

Blaine smiled and pulled Kurt in for a kiss. "I love you a lot, you know."

"I know. I love you too."

"I hate that we keep fighting. I hate fighting with you."

"Yeah, I do too. But it's part of being in a relationship. If fighting with you means I get to kiss you, and have sex with you, and cuddle on the couch with you watching Netflix, and get coffee with you at one in the morning at that one café a few blocks away so I can help you finish your paper, then I'll take it. I'll take the bad with the good, because the good is so, so worth it."

Blaine smirked and shoved Kurt's arm. "Since when did you become such a cheesy romantic?"

"Since I fell in love with the world's leading expert in cheesy romance."

"Okay, I wouldn't go that far."

"Really? You wouldn't?"

"Shut up. You know you love it anyway."

"I do. I really do."


	43. Lucky

_Summary: A reaction fic to tonight's episode, 5x18. Blaine feels awful after lying and knows he has to come clean, but can never find the right moment. _

… … …

Okay, Blaine knows he's supposed to be eating better, but the giant popcorn bowl on the table seems all too inviting after his conversation with Kurt.

Sweet, beautiful Kurt. His gorgeous and talented fiancé Kurt. The man of his dreams. The most adorable, bright, shining star of all.

And Blaine just feels _awful _because he lied. Well, technically, he didn't. Kurt never really let him finish a full sentence—or even a word, at some points. There was a lot of stuttering, and mumbling and—

Oh, who is Blaine kidding? He messed up. Big time.

So he sits on the couch next to Kurt, watching _Scandal _as promised, and stuffs his face with popcorn. And keeps stuffing his face. And keeps stuffing his face. Until Kurt tugs on the bowl a little.

"Hon, you wanna share that with me?"

Blaine knows it's a subtle hint to stop eating and he appreciates that Kurt doesn't call him out too boldly on it. "Oh—uh. Sorry. Yeah." He settles the bowl between them and tries not to take as many handfuls.

The guilt doesn't wane. If anything, it only seems to build, weighing more and more heavily in Blaine's stomach. What was once a small lead ball is now a two ton anvil, and it's only been an hour.

When the episode ends, Kurt sets the popcorn bowl on the table and scoots toward Blaine, putting his arms around Blaine's neck and leaning in, kissing him. Blaine kisses back—because how can he not?—but the whole time he just feels terrible. Kurt is so happy, and so eager to share that with Blaine.

"I love you," Kurt says against his lips, pushing Blaine to lie back on the couch and settling down on top of him. He starts kissing down Blaine's neck, nuzzling the skin with his nose. "You've always been so supportive of me. So encouraging. Even when something is about you, you always try to include me. Ever since the beginning, with that duet for the Warblers. You have such a good heart."

Oh, god. Every word is like a fifty pound weight added in Blaine's stomach. He shuts his eyes and tells himself that Kurt will understand. That he should just come clean about the whole thing, because Kurt is the one with a good heart, and he'll be understanding and still so supportive. Because Kurt is the one that's encouraging. Not Blaine.

But he can't do it. He can't make the words come out of his mouth. They're lodged in his throat, weighted down by the guilt.

Kurt pulls away to smile at him. "I just love you so much."

Blaine forces a smile, bringing a hand to the side of Kurt's face. "I love you too."

And then Kurt starts taking off his shirt and suggesting they go upstairs to Blaine's room and the opportunity is lost. He can't take away sex, not when Kurt is still hurt from the way Blaine had shied away and turned to internet porn not too long ago.

After that, the opportunity never seems to come up again. Kurt is always so _happy_, and it's such a nice change from how often they've been fighting lately, and Blaine doesn't want to ruin that. He's _missed _this. The casual goodbye kisses, the subconscious touching at dinner and on the couch and as they walk down the street, the date nights that didn't always end in some kind of bickering match.

It's a nice reprieve to be able to just be happy with Kurt, and Blaine knows the moment he confesses, that'll go away. Because the longer he waits, the worse it's going to be, and he just can't bring himself to say it.

June Dolloway was nothing like Blaine expected. She was cold and unfeeling. Sure, she was a socialite, but that was all that mattered to her. The money and the recognition. She didn't care about _people _and that was something unfathomable to Blaine, the boy who'd drunkenly declared he just wanted to make art and help people.

The way she tore down Kurt made Blaine want to put the brakes on the whole thing—and he almost did. Well, he tried to at least. But June had basically refused to let him say no. It just wasn't an option to her. She had taken him under her wing and that, to her, was a binding contract. So Blaine just gave in and decided that he'd work on wearing her down, on letting Kurt do the show with him.

He just hopes it'll work.

In the meantime, he's forced to watch the way Kurt catches his eye at random moments with an extra sparkle, and listen to Kurt's voice take on that lilt it does when he's excited about something as he asks about how things are going with June, even though he'd said he wouldn't ask anymore.

Things are complicated. And Blaine doesn't know how to make them uncomplicated. But he knows that if he doesn't figure it out soon, he's going to lose Kurt.

And he can't lose Kurt. Not again.

So he tries to come up with a game plan. Some way to tell Kurt the truth without making it sound like he lied—which, okay, it's time to be honest with himself. He did. Lying by omission is the same thing as lying and he knows it. But he can't bear to make himself feel any worse than he already does, so he chooses to ignore that part.

A week later they're walking through Central Park holding hands, just because they can. The weather is nice and it's a Sunday afternoon so there are lots of families and artists and it's one of the few times Blaine has truly felt at home in New York.

"Do you want ice cream?" Kurt asks him, swinging their joined hands between them.

Blaine smiles. "Sure."

Today is their cheat day, after all.

They come up to an ice cream stand on the sidewalk, and Kurt orders for both of them because he knows what Blaine likes.

"Pecan praline and chocolate chip cookie dough, please."

When Kurt hands him the chocolate chip cookie dough, he smiles again. "Thank you, Kurt."

"After everything you've done for me? A scoop of ice cream is nothing."

God, Blaine wishes Kurt would stop saying stuff like that. He just nods and shoves a giant spoonful into his mouth, wincing when he gets brain freeze. He deserves it, he thinks.

Kurt catches his facial expression. "Brain freeze?"

"Yeah," he manages, holding his head.

Kurt steps into his space and kisses him, tongue immediately licking into his mouth. Blaine's not one to complain about kissing Kurt, especially when Kurt is bold like this in public, so he goes along with it. Kurt breaks the kiss, stepping back.

"Did that help?"

Blaine smirks. "Yeah, a little."

"Good."

Kurt nudges Blaine's shoulder with his own and walks down the sidewalk, so Blaine follows into step beside him, eating his ice cream. They pass by a street performer with their guitar case open for tips, and Blaine still just wants to make art and help people, so he fishes a couple of loose bills in his pocket and tosses them in, nodding at the guy with a smile. He's not half bad.

"That was nice of you," Kurt says to him. "Not that I'm surprised. You've always been generous."

Blaine just smiles.

Kurt nudges him again. "Blaaaaine. You don't have to be so shy. You're a good person! It's okay to know that about yourself."

"I know," Blaine says, a little strained.

"I mean, that could have been us. We could have to stand on the street playing in the hopes of making a couple bucks in tips. But you've gotten this great opportunity with June and I'm lucky enough that you're willing to share it with me. This is going to open so many doors for us, sweetheart."

Blaine sighs and plops down on a bench, setting his ice cream next to him and putting his head in his hands. "I can't do this anymore."

"What?" Kurt settles beside him and a gentle hand is laid on his back. "What are you talking about? What's the matter?"

"I lied to you," Blaine says, and the words taste like bile. "I am so sorry, Kurt. I never meant to, but you were just so excited, and now the whole thing has just gotten out of hand. But you've been so nice and so good and you're just the best person I've ever met and I'm rotten. I am a rotten, rotten person who lied to his fiancé and I got your hopes up and I don't deserve you."

"Hey, whoa, that's a lot. Do you want to clue me in here?"

Blaine looks up at Kurt, sees the simple worry in his eyes, and feels even worse. "I lied to you. About the show with June. She told me we were going to do it, and I immediately told her you have to do it with me, Kurt, I swear. I said the world needs to see your talent, because I believe in you so much, and you mean the world to me. But she shot me down. She said no. And then when I tried to back out—because I don't want to do it without you—she wouldn't let me. She flat out refused to let me say no. I didn't know what to do. I'm so sorry, Kurt."

Kurt's face falls, and that's exactly what Blaine had been trying to prevent in the first place, and now he just feels even worse about the whole thing.

"Blaine, why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because you seemed so excited, and after she refused to let me out of it, I decided to try and convince her to let you do it with me. I bring it up every time she and I go somewhere. But she always brushes me off."

"Just the fact that you're so insistent on including me means a lot to me. I love that you do that for me, even if June is being stubborn about it. If she doesn't want me in the showcase, I won't do it. Not if it jeopardizes your success."

Blaine groans. "Why are you being so good about this? I lied to you. I got your hopes up and now I'm smashing them down."

"True, but you had good intentions. I still mean all the things I've been saying about you. You have a good heart. I know you didn't do it to hurt me, although I am a little disappointed." Kurt gives him a half-smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "But I am still going to love sitting in that audience and watching you perform. I better get a seat front and center."

Blaine sighs. This isn't fair. He just wants to perform with his fiancé. A few songs out of a whole showcase is not a lot to ask, and it's not fair that June is being so unreasonable about the whole thing. He's starting to regret getting involved with her in the first place, even if she is going to launch his career. There are better ways than selling his soul to heartless elderly black widows.

"You know what? Screw June Dolloway. I'm just not going to do it," Blaine says.

Kurt touches a hand to his shoulder. "Blaine, really, you can't pass up this opportunity. Not on my account. This could be really good for you."

"No, I don't want it to be really good for me if it's not going to be good for both of us. I don't want to do it without you."

"You can't just not do it at all. Didn't June, like, refuse your refusal?"

"Yeah," Blaine sighs, and she really can be kind of scary. He doesn't know how to say no to her.

He thinks of all the times he and Kurt have performed together, and how much they've all meant to him. Duets like Just Can't Get Enough at Mr. Schue's not-wedding, Candles at regionals, Perfect in the choir room for Santana. Then he thinks of their performance at Breadstix for Sugar's Valentine's Day party, and how he pulled Kurt up onstage with him from the table, and a thought occurs to him.

"No. You know what? I'm not doing it without you."

"Blaine—"

"So you're going to do it with me. That's it. I don't care what June says. You will definitely have a seat front and center, but you won't be staying there. I'm pulling you up onstage with her. If she doesn't know, she can't stop it from happening."

Kurt gives Blaine a look. "Are you sure you want to do that? You could ruin everything you have going with her."

"You said it best, Kurt. When something happens to one of us, it happens to both of us. We're getting married; we're a team. I don't want success if I can't have you right there by my side."

Kurt's face melts. He grabs Blaine's face in both of his hands and surges forward, kissing him deeply. When he pulls back, his eyes are shining as bright as they were when Blaine first told him about the showcase. "I love you so much. You really are a good person. You know that, right?"

"Sure," Blaine says, smiling and kissing Kurt again.

He isn't so sure he believes it, but it feels good to do this, to include Kurt in his success, even if it might put the brakes on the whole thing.

Kurt stands from the bench and holds his hand out, beaming at Blaine. "Come on, you rebel. Let's go get more ice cream. Ours has sufficiently melted and I don't want to be jipped on our one cheat day."

"Whatever you say, my love."

Kurt smiles at him, kissing his nose. "I love when you call me that."

Blaine stares at Kurt, admiring the way the sun shines on the planes of his face. God, Kurt really is beautiful. Blaine doesn't know what he did to deserve such a beautiful, understanding, compassionate, forgiving man in his life, and how he got that man to agree to marry him will forever remain a mystery, but in that moment, he can't be anything but grateful.

Kurt lets go of his hand and gets them more ice cream. He comes back a minute later and holds one of the cups out to Blaine.

"Here you go, babe."

"I love you."

"I just got you ice cream, but I love you too." Kurt's nose scrunches when he smiles and Blaine dies a little inside.

He is so, so lucky.


	44. Worthless

_Summary: Another 5x16 reaction fic that I used the following two prompts to write:_

_Anon prompt "Can you rewrite tonight's ep [5x16, Tested), by having the same lines almost, but Blaine saying something along the lines of 'I don't know if I can keep living feeling like I'm fat and ugly. Sometimes I don't even want to live anymore. Kurt, I'm so scared.'"_

_Anon prompt "Why is Blaine struggling so much with the shifting dynamic in his relationship with Kurt? Because if Kurt doesn't need anyone to protect him, doesn't want Blaine to protect him, what good is Blaine for? Why would Kurt keep him without a reason? Kurt realizes that Blaine is struggling with the concept of unconditional love and the idea that someone would want to love him that way much less actually does."_

_Original dialogue has been taken from the episode but I in no way take credit for dialogue that the Glee writers wrote._

… … …

Blaine didn't even know what he was doing there. He and Kurt were fighting—again—so he really should've just gone back home. To Sam and Mercedes. Who would probably be all over each other, as always.

No. Facing the music with Kurt was the preferable option.

Kurt wouldn't be home for hours, though, Blaine knew. So as he waited he was forced to face the music with his own thoughts.

Because if he was honest with himself, the thoughts he'd been having lately were starting to scare him. He had never felt this…low about himself in his entire life. He'd always been Blaine Anderson, the debonair, suave, confident leader. Self-assured and strong. He led by example and served as a mentor to a lot of younger students at Dalton. Even some older ones, like Kurt.

Of course, Kurt didn't need him anymore. No one needed him anymore, it seemed. Not for protection, or guidance, or even casual conversation. Sam had Mercedes now, and Kurt had his life here, and Blaine was friends with Rachel and Santana and Artie, sure, but they all seemed to busy to deal with peripheral friends like him.

If no one needed him anymore, why did he bother staying around?

That was a thought that came far too often to be healthy. He tried to ignore it, usually, because he knew what it meant. Instead, he distracted himself with silly things, like Star Wars fan fiction and a sad attempt at taking up knitting. He thought it would've been nice to knit Kurt a sweater or a scarf—something tangible that showed Blaine was worth keeping around even if it was just for clothes. But even that Blaine had failed at.

What hadn't Blaine failed at lately, though?

Combat class that day had been embarrassing. He had years of training in boxing, so why was that class so hard? Blaine had never felt so frustrated.

And then there was his problem with eating, which was technically the only thing he excelled at lately but it still felt like failing. He'd gained 15 pounds in a month. He couldn't look in a mirror anymore without feeling worthless.

Then again, Blaine felt worthless all the time, these days. Worthless, hopeless, exhausted, dark. And he didn't know how much longer he could go on feeling like this before he took matters into his own hands.

He just wanted it all to stop.

The door slid open, and Kurt walked in, mumbling to himself. Blaine looked up and realized Kurt was on the phone. When Kurt hung up and looked at him, Blaine looked away.

"That was Rachel. She was just confirming us for her opening night."

Blaine stared down at his hands. "What'd you tell her?"

"I said yeah, if we don't kill each other in combat class, count us in," Kurt said. Blaine took a sip of soda. He wasn't really in the mood for Kurt's sarcastic jokes. "What happened in there? You were really coming at me, as if you had something to prove. What, I'm not sure."

"That I'm as strong as you are," Blaine said, voice low. He still didn't want to look up.

"Okay, but it's not a contest."

"Isn't it though? On some level?" Blaine sat up and shifted on the couch to face Kurt. He could tell by Kurt's face that this wouldn't end well. Kurt was mad, and when Kurt was mad, he was stubborn. He almost never listened to the other person's side until he'd had time to cool down, which he clearly hadn't. But Blaine had to be honest. He couldn't keep what he was feeling bottled up anymore. It was killing him. "Because for the first time in my life, I really feel like I'm losing. I've felt that way ever since I got to New York. I feel like we're in this race together, and you are just…_so much farther_ than I am. And it just feels like the whole balance has shifted."

"What balance?" Kurt asked, arms crossed.

Blaine shook his head, looking down again. It was clear Kurt was only hearing what he wanted to, but Blaine still had to try. "I guess it started when we first met and you came to Dalton to get away from Karofsky and I wanted to help you through that."

Kurt came and sat down in the armchair next to him. "And you did."

"And I loved the way that felt—I loved that. I loved being able to protect you, but now I look at your life and…it's completely different. You're a star at school, you have all these cool new friends, you started a band. I just—I feel like you don't need me anymore. To protect or anything. I mean, you asked me to move out for god's sake." Blaine set down the can and stood up, walking towards the kitchen.

Kurt had been staring at him like he was crazy the entire time he was talking and he needed the comfort that only food could provide.

"We made that decision together," Kurt said. "So, so—Is that what all this stuff is about? What's going on? I mean, and you trying to get me to eat more?"

And god, that tone Kurt had was just cutting right into Blaine. He turned around and spoke to Kurt more desperately, almost pleading with him to understand. "I don't like the way that I feel about myself anymore, Kurt, okay? And you have, like, this amazing new body. Do you want to know why we haven't been intimate? It's because I feel _insecure_ around you. I feel insecure around my own fiancé and isn't gonna judge me!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but now that he opened up he felt like he couldn't stop.

"And neither will I," Kurt said forcefully. Blaine shook his head to himself as Kurt continued, stepping closer to him. "Ever. But I'm _not_ going to apologize for not being some delicate flower that needs his boyfriend to protect him. And maybe you're right, maybe it is a contest. Maybe that's the way it has to be with two guys, but I'd much rather be running this race _with_ you rather than _against_you."

"Me too, I just—"

"As _equals._"

"I know, I know," Blaine sighed, covering his face. Kurt wasn't getting it, and Blaine didn't know how to make him understand. "I know that. I'm sorry, I just… I'm just so scared that you're going to keep changing and keep getting stronger…and one day you're going to wake up and you're going to realize that, 'I don't love him anymore.' And I don't know how how much longer I can go on feeling like this."

"Like what?"

Blaine looked down and took a deep breath, unable to keep looking at Kurt's face, so hard and disapproving. "Like…Like I'm _fat _and—and ugly and…god, I just feel so _worthless _all the time, like you don't even need me anymore. I don't…" Blaine paused and took another deep breath, fighting to keep his voice even as the tears started to fall. "Sometimes I don't want to live anymore, Kurt. And I'm so _scared_."

And finally admitting his fear out loud was what did him in. Blaine cried in earnest, covering his face and choking on his tears. Kurt pulled him in, and Blaine debated pushing him away, but the luxury of being held securely in his fiancé's arms was something he hadn't had in a while, so he let himself be held. He melted into it, burying his face in Kurt's neck. Kurt let him cry it out, rubbing one hand up and down Blaine's back and holding the other to the back of Blaine's head.

Blaine felt safe. Really and truly safe for the first time since he'd moved to New York. Kurt hadn't said anything yet, and Blaine didn't know if that meant that he still didn't understand, or he didn't know what to say, or he just wanted to let Blaine have a moment.

When Kurt pulled away, his face had softened considerably. "Blaine, how long have you felt like this?"

"I don't know," Blaine said, shrugging. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater and Kurt didn't even cringe. "Ever since I moved to New York, really. Maybe a little while before. It's all just kind of…blurred."

Kurt guided Blaine backwards to sit in a chair at the table and then sat in one next to him, holding his hand. "First of all, I am _always _going to love you. Always, Blaine. And I don't want you to feel insecure or ashamed around me. You're beautiful, exactly as you are."

"I just don't feel that way," Blaine said, looking down at their hands. "I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I constantly compare myself to you, and I know that's not fair, but I can't help it. I just feel like…like you've evolved as a person, which is great, but I haven't. You're this super hot, amazingly talented, charismatic guy. You have everything going for you. So what do you need me for anymore?"

"Because I love you, Blaine."

"Why?" he asked. He shook his head and bit his lip. "I just—Kurt, you have everything going for you now. You're strong and good and you don't need me to protect your or hold you up anymore."

"I don't just love you because you can protect me or lift me up. I mean, those things are great, and they're things that I love about you and about our relationship. But you're right, things have changed, and I'm strong independently from you. That doesn't mean I don't love you anymore, though."

Blaine didn't know what to say. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing on taking deep, shaky breaths. After a moment, Kurt placed a finger under Blaine's chin and forced him to look up.

"Blaine, why do _you _think I love you?"

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know."

"There has to be some reason, right?" Kurt pressed. "You mentioned being able to protect me?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "Yeah, but that was before. Now you don't need me for that."

"Right."

Blaine's heart dropped to his stomach. "So you don't need me anymore," he said plainly, pulling his hand away and standing up.

Kurt stood up with him and put his hands on his shoulders. "Blaine, hold on. Is that it? You think I only love you because you can protect me? Is that why you said you think I'm going to realize one day that I don't love you anymore? Because I don't need protection?"

"Well, yeah," Blaine answered. He frowned and tried to push past Kurt, to get away. The more Kurt spoke, the more clear it was to Blaine how worthless and pointless he truly had become.

"But I still love you," Kurt told him. "Even without that, I still love you." Kurt paused, eyes flickering over Blaine's face before his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh. You really don't believe me, do you?"

Blaine took a breath. "I—I want to. I just don't understand why you'd love me without a reason. When I don't… I don't know, when I don't serve some kind of purpose."

"You make me happy," Kurt said. "That's your purpose. I love you unconditionally."

"But—why?"

"That's my point, Blaine. There doesn't have to be a 'why.' I just love you because you're you. Because I fell in love with you."

"Because I could protect you."

"No, because… Oh, honey. I really wish I didn't have to explain this to you."

Blaine flinched. "Okay, then don't," he said, walking away and heading for the door.

"No, wait, Blaine! That's not what I meant!" Kurt chased him to the door, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face him. "I wish I didn't have to explain this to you because I wish you already knew. Because I wish you had people in your life before me that loved you unconditionally. And it…it _breaks my heart_ that you don't."

"Oh." Blaine blinked. He didn't really know what to say.

Kurt frowned and then pulled Blaine in again, holding on tightly. "I'm so sorry, Blaine. I would give so much to be able to change your past."

"But then I might not have met you," Blaine pointed out.

Kurt's chest expanded against his and then collapsed. "You're right. And I don't ever want us to be without each other." Kurt pulled back a little to meet Blaine's eye, but kept his arms around him. "That doesn't just mean I'm not going anywhere. That means you have to stick around too."

"Okay."

"Blaine, it really concerns me, what you said earlier. After what happened with Dave… I think you need to go see a therapist or counselor or someone. Feeling suicidal isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I don't know if I can," Blaine said quietly, ducking his head. "It was hard enough telling you. I don't know if I can talk about this with someone else."

"Then I need you to at least consider it. And when you start thinking about this, I need you to talk to me about it. No more keeping this stuff to yourself, okay? You _have _to talk to me."

Blaine sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Okay."

"I'm serious. You have to be honest with me when you're going through something like this, Blaine. I can't lose you."

And something about hearing Kurt say that did it for Blaine. Kurt sounded so intent, so honest, so raw. There was no way Kurt could have meant anything other than what he said. _I can't lose you. _Maybe Blaine didn't have a reason to be around anymore, but Kurt still wanted him—couldn't stand the thought of losing him. And maybe that's what Kurt meant by unconditional love. Even without a reason, Kurt still wanted him around. Still loved him.

"Okay. I promise."

Kurt nodded, leaning his forehead against Blaine's for a moment. He pulled back and kissed Blaine's nose. "And you are not worthless." He kissed Blaine's cheekbone. "And you are not ugly." A kiss to Blaine's other cheekbone. "And you are not fat." When Kurt kissed his forehead, Blaine's eyelids fluttered shut. "You are beautiful." A kiss to one closed eye. "And you are kind." A kiss to the other eye. "And you are so, so, _so _loved." A kiss to his lips. "And I'm sorry I made you think any differently."

Blaine took another deep breath and offered a shaky smile. "Thank you, Kurt."

"You don't have to feel alone, or scared, or worthless. That's what I'm here for. To help you through that and help you see that you are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. You just have to let me in."

"I'll try," Blaine said.

And in the moment, he truly meant it.


	45. Drowning

_Summary: The fifth installment in the bulimic!blaine verse. The previous fics are Can't Weigh Me Down, Sick to my Stomach, The Rabbit Hole of Despair, and Precipice. The following two prompts went into this fic:_

_Anon prompted: I'm loving the bulimic Blaine verse. Could I maybe prompt something where maybe Blaine starts taking anti-depressants, but they cause weight-gain which makes him want to throw-up/hurt himself again?_

_Anon prompted: Can we have more bulimic blaine? Maybe he's relapsed again (bc of dummies at nyada?) and kurt does everything he can to make blaine know that that's okay and normal and he's so proud of him and he still loves him and blargh_

… … …

Summer.

Also known as swimsuit season.

Blaine grimaced as he twisted and turned, standing in front of the mirror in Kurt's room and examining his body. He looked awful. There was fat on his hips rolling over the waistband of his swim trunks. He pulled them up higher on his stomach, in an attempt to also hide the faded pink scars there, but that just made him look ridiculous. Not to mention it cut into the fat of his rounded stomach and made _that _even more obvious.

There was just no way he'd look good. He had to tell Kurt he couldn't go. That was the only option. He was fat and he had scars on his stomach and everyone would know what they were from and they'd talk about him even more than they already did and he just couldn't do it. It wasn't possible.

"Honey?" Kurt came through the curtain and frowned when he saw Blaine. "What have we said about doing that?"

"I was just making sure I looked okay," Blaine said.

"And what do you think?"

Blaine looked down, frowning at his body. "I can't go."

"Blaine—"

"Don't push it, okay? I just can't do it."

"What would Kasey say?"

Kasey was Blaine's therapist that he saw ever Wednesday morning before class. She told him about automatic thoughts and ways to challenge them. He learned that when he looked in a mirror now, he was hit with automatic thoughts that he looked fat and ugly and terrible, but that he had to challenge them, and say, "No, I'm average weight for my height. I'm an attractive man. I'm a good person."

The only problem with this was that he didn't actually believe his challenges. They were empty words that he told himself because Kasey told him to. The automatic thoughts were more him, but apparently he wasn't allowed to think that way anymore. He didn't know why everyone was so invested in his thoughts. They were his, and because of that, they weren't anyone else's business. Everyone else saw it differently, though.

"She would say I should try to step out of my comfort zone and push myself," Blaine said, sighing. "But Kurt—"

"No. You promised you'd really commit to this, right?"

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"Then you need to commit to it. You need to listen to Kasey."

He'd only been seeing her for a month. He didn't really trust her yet, honestly. But Kurt was relentless after the fire escape incident.

"You still don't feel any different from the medication?"

Blaine sighed. He'd started antidepressants three weeks ago and there had been no improvement in his mood. Instead, he was exhausted and nauseous and had gained ten pounds. Because that's what he needed. _More _fat. More reason to want to purge every day.

"No, I don't. I feel worse, actually."

"Oh, sweetheart. But it's supposed to take a few more weeks to really feel a difference, right? You'll get there. In the meantime, we have to try to stay positive."

"Positive. Right." Blaine look down at his stomach. "Kurt, everyone is going to see my scars."

Kurt walked over to him and laid a hand over Blaine's stomach. "There aren't that many, Blaine. I don't think anyone is going to notice."

"I still don't feel comfortable."

"Then you can wear a shirt, alright? But don't flake out on me. This is supposed to be fun, remember?"

Blaine didn't know what was so fun about a group of people from school going to a water park. They didn't even like him. They hated him, actually. But Kurt insisted that it might help Blaine make friends with them if he started going out with them. So when Kurt saw a post on the NYADA Actors Facebook Page about a group trip to Dorney Park's Wildwater Kingdom not two hours from Manhattan, he signed them up. Rachel couldn't go because she had _Funny Girl_, and it was meant to be a NYADA students trip only, but Santana threw a fit when she found out they were going without her, so it would be the three of them.

Plus a hundred of Blaine's closest tormentors.

Fun. Right.

"Yeah. Fine," Blaine said. He went to the dresser and grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it on over his head. When he went back to the mirror and looked at himself, he was a little more pleased. He could still see the huge amount of fat—god, he looked like a balloon—but at least it was a little better hidden.

"Blaine, you've got to stop staring at yourself in the mirror like that. There's nothing wrong with you," Kurt said gently. He stood behind Blaine at the mirror and wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist, lacing his fingers together over Blaine's stomach. "You are so beautiful," he said, hooking his chin over Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine caught Kurt's eye in the mirror. "I'm grateful you think so, but I'm just not there yet."

"I know. And that's okay. We're work—_you're _working on it."

Blaine appreciated the separation.

"Knock knock. Don't be fucking," Santana said, sweeping the curtain aside. "You guys ready to go?"

Blaine gawked at her. She was wearing a bright red string bikini that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Really. Her nipples were barely covered and Blaine had a feeling if she turned around he'd see at least half of her ass.

"Are you seriously wearing that?" Blaine asked.

"That's going to fall off in two seconds if you go on any slide," Kurt told her.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Relax, boys. I have a slip." She held up a sheer white dress.

"And that's supposed to…?" Blaine asked.

Santana huffed and slipped it on. It fell over her body lightly, hanging loose. It did nothing to help. He could still see everything.

"All of the guys are gay anyway," Kurt said. "It won't matter. Let's go."

They headed out of the loft, Kurt grabbing their beach bag on the way out that had all of the necessities: sunscreen, water bottles, towels. They met up with the group at NYADA and then split into the different smaller groups for car pooling purposes. Kurt, Santana, and Blaine were riding in the backseat of Diane's car, a sweet and quiet lesbian from Kurt's set design class last semester. Diane's girlfriend Clare was in the passenger seat.

The ride there was quiet. Diane and Clare held hands over the console in the front, and Blaine sat in between Kurt and Santana in the backseat, holding Kurt's hand. Santana leaned her head against the window and stared out. Blaine felt bad for her, thinking of how lonely she must be, constantly surrounded by couples.

When they pulled into the water park, Blaine tried his best to be excited. He could see the way Kurt's face lit up and he didn't want to take away from that. Kurt being excited about a water park was a new development, anyway, and it was interesting to watch the man who used to refuse to go swimming when they were in high school actively excited to spend an entire day at a water park, shirtless.

Kurt really had changed here.

It wasn't a bad thing, not really. Just different. Enough to give Blaine pause sometimes when he observed the ways Kurt had changed, like the first time he witnessed Kurt's work-out routine. For someone so focused on physical aesthetics, Blaine didn't know how Kurt found him attractive at all.

"You ready?" Kurt asked, eyes bright as he unbuckled his seat belt when they parked the car.

Blaine nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course."

The group all met at the entrance, doing a head count before going in with their prepaid tickets. Blaine glanced back, looking for Santana, and was surprised to find her hanging back with Diane and Clare.

"Look at Santana," Blaine said to Kurt.

Kurt turned around and raised his eyebrows. "Interesting."

"Maybe they can set her up with someone. That would be nice."

"Yeah, maybe it would get her out of our hair for once."

Blaine frowned. "She's just trying to help me, Kurt. Santana's a really good friend. I wish you two would at least _try _to get along."

"Santana and I have an understanding that we're too similar to spend too much time together. It's not that we don't like each other. I'd be happy to see her happy with someone."

"Oh." Blaine paused. "Well, good."

Kurt smiled and rubbed a hand over Blaine's upper back. "Let's go get a locker to put our bag in and then we can go ride some water slides."

"Alright." Blaine turned around again and looked for Santana, spotting her not far back with Diane and Clare. "Santana! You coming with us or what?"

Santana looked at him before turning to Diane and Clare, talking with them for a moment before nodding. They all walked up to Kurt and Blaine. "It's cool if Diane and Clare hang with us, right?"

"Of course," Kurt said, smiling at them.

Diane smiled back. "Thanks, Kurt."

They started heading towards the lockers, Kurt talking with Diane about how they did on the set design final, Santana and Clare walking on either side of Blaine.

"So how was your first year at NYADA?" Clare asked Blaine.

She was clearly trying to make an effort with him, but Blaine wished she would have asked anything but that. "Um, it was…an experience."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"It's okay. At NYADA, freshman year is the worst. That's when all the upperclassmen try to weed out the kids who aren't strong enough to handle it. But you made it through, so yay you!"

Blaine wanted to tell her that he hadn't, not really. That he wasn't strong enough to handle it. That he'd resorted to doing awful things to himself to keep his head above water. But she seemed earnest, so he just nodded and smiled.

"Yep."

Clare walked ahead to catch up with Diane, and Santana said, "NYADA sucks."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. It does."

They all got one locker and stuffed everything inside it—cell phones, towels, clothes, keys. Kurt made everyone put on sunscreen before locking that away, too. Then they were off.

There were over 30 slides for them to go on, but each line seemed longer than the next, so they only went on about six before giving up and going to the lazy river, tired of standing. There were NYADA students running all around, but it was hard to tell who was part of the group and who wasn't. The park was packed that day.

Blaine had more fun than he thought he would, though, he had to admit. He got to keep his shirt on and no one really said anything, which was nice. They went on a few slides that offered couple floats, so he got to sit in between Kurt's legs and hold onto Kurt's knees as they went down, with Kurt's hands on his shoulders, laughing and screaming behind him.

It was nice to see Kurt so relaxed and happy. With everything that had been going on in Blaine's life lately, Kurt had always seemed so stressed. Blaine liked that he could give Kurt this day, even if he still felt like crap.

They took a lunch break in the afternoon, going to the food area and settling down on one of the picnic tables. Kurt got pizza and chili cheese fries for the table and they all sat down to eat. Blaine had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to be able to take one bite.

"You okay?" Kurt asked quietly, ducking his head to Blaine's ear.

Blaine nodded, stomach in knots as he stared at the greasy food in front of him. "I'm fine."

"Just eat as much as you feel comfortable, okay?"

"Yeah."

Santana eyed Blaine from across the table, staring pointedly at the food and then looking back up at Blaine's face. Blaine gave her a look and took a bite of the pizza, then raised his eyebrows at her, as if to say, _See? I'm eating. Happy?_

Even though his jaw ached every time he chewed. Even though the food felt like it was burning him on the way down to his mostly empty stomach. Even though he could feel every calorie seeping into his body, pushing at his skin with the fat it was creating.

It didn't help him to think about the weight he'd already gained from the antidepressants, either.

When would it end?

Apparently, never.

"Hey, fatass. Do you really need to be eating that?" some girl said, walking up to their table and leering down at Blaine.

Blaine's entire body started shaking. He gulped, eyes wide, and looked past the girl at a table of her friends, all staring at him and laughing.

"Um…"

He had nothing to say. The girl had a point. He really didn't need to be eating it. He set the pizza down.

"Excuse me, bitch, who invited you over here?" Santana asked, standing up.

The girl stood her ground. "I don't need to be invited. This is a public park. I'm just trying to look out for you, you know," she said, looking at Blaine. "You're never going to make it if you don't lose at least thirty pounds. Better make it forty to be on the safe side."

"I swear to god if you don't apologize to my friend and walk your toothpick ass back to your table I'm going to rip out your extensions and shove them down your throat," Santana snapped.

"Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" the girl asked, looking Santana up and down.

Blaine didn't know what to do. He'd never endured this kind of hatred in front of people. No, his bullies were normally too scared to insult him in front of others. Yet now here this girl was, throwing insults at him in front of his friends, humiliating him.

And for what? What had Blaine ever done to this girl?

He didn't even recognize her. He had no idea who she was, and yet she was here on a direct mission to hurt him.

Kurt stood up then, stepping out of the table and going up to the girl, pushing her shoulder. "That's enough. Leave him alone."

"Why should I? He needs to learn here and now that he's never going to get anywhere looking like that. Just because you put a shirt on doesn't mean we all can't see what's hiding underneath it."

"Do you even know this girl, Blaine?" Santana asked him.

Blaine shook his head.

"Alright, that's it," Santana said, shoving the girl. "You and I are gonna go. I'm about to go all Lima Heights on your ass, you self-absorbed cunt."

The girl pushed her back, and right as it looked like they were about to get into a serious fight, Diane spoke up.

"Hey, Melisa! If you don't want everyone knowing you used to give blowjobs for fifteen bucks in the third floor bathrooms last year, I suggest you leave my friends alone. Especially Blaine."

The girl—Melisa—stopped cold. Her eyes bugged out. "That—that's not true!"

"Then you won't mind if I tell everyone, since it's not true anyway."

Melisa sputtered for a moment before running back to her table of friends.

They were all silent for a moment before Santana said, "Okay, that was awesome. You are officially my hero."

"How did you know about that?" Kurt asked.

Diane shrugged. "If you're quiet, no one really worries about talking around you. They don't notice you most of the time, actually. I know most of the stuff that goes on at school." She looked at Blaine then, and Blaine could tell. She knew.

God, he just wanted to die. Not only had he been humiliated in front of them, but he'd ruined their fun day, and the people he'd thought could be his friends without judgment had already judged him. They had to have. There's no way Diane knew about this without telling Clare and making their own judgments and opinions about it.

Blaine's stomach swooped. Whether it was from the medication or the confrontation, he was about two seconds away from puking.

"I'll be right back," he managed, running from the table towards a restroom building. He shoved his way past a line of guys waiting for stalls and pushed a guy who was about to enter one, taking it for himself and locking the door.

He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and waited, breathing heavily.

Nothing happened.

But god, he _needed _to throw up. And it didn't matter what day it was that he'd been clean at this point because he was miserable and it didn't matter that Kurt would be disappointed in him because he was disappointed in himself and it didn't matter that Santana would be mad at him because he was mad at himself.

He hated that he was like this. He hated that he couldn't just brush that girl's words off and act like nothing had happened. He hated that he couldn't have just laughed and shrugged his shoulders after she had left. He hated that he couldn't have stood up for himself, instead of having everyone else do it for him.

He was weak. And he hated it.

So he gave in. He stuck his fingers down his throat threw it all up. The pizza, the cheese fries, the guilt, the disappointment, the anger, the frustration, the hatred.

And then the stall door was pushed open and Blaine looked up, wiping at his mouth. Kurt stared down at him.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said immediately. "I couldn't help it."

Kurt just stood there, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, and he didn't say anything. Blaine couldn't even tell if he was breathing or not. And it occurred to Blaine, then, that Kurt had never seen him like this. It had been Santana who had caught him puking the first time, and it had been Santana who had caught him cutting. Kurt had seen him on the ledge, but that was different.

This was the messy part. This was what drove Blaine to the ledge. This was the part of Blaine that Kurt knew about in theory but had never actually _seen. _

And now he had. And Blaine was scared that Kurt would bolt.

But he didn't. He took a step inside the small stall and closed the door behind him, locking it. He pulled a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wiped at Blaine's mouth, then tossed it in the toilet and flushed it.

Without a word, Kurt pulled Blaine into his lap on the dirty, disgusting bathroom floor, rubbing his back and petting his hair.

Of all the reactions Blaine would have expected, that was one that never crossed his mind. The comfort, and the intimacy, and the overwhelming love he felt in that moment was enough to make Blaine cry. He sobbed into Kurt's bare shoulder, not caring who could hear him beyond that stall door.

Because he'd given in. He'd let that girl—that _stupid _girl who bullied him to get over her own insecurities win. And yet here Kurt sat, holding him and rocking him and petting his hair and humming softly to him, because Kurt _understood. _Blaine didn't have to explain a thing. And it killed him that he had someone as amazing as Kurt, and yet he still did this to himself. He still felt this bad about himself. He still had thoughts of suicide. He still made himself throw up and he still held kitchen knives in his hands when no one was looking and thought about carving zig-zag patterns into his skin.

He cried out of desperation, because he didn't know how long he could go on like this and yet he didn't know how to _stop _feeling like this.

Nothing was working. Kasey was great, but she didn't understand him, and he didn't feel comfortable enough to try to explain. The antidepressants did nothing for him except make him fat and increase how terrible he felt about himself. The things that were supposed to help normal people just weren't helping him, and Blaine was starting to think that nothing would.

Except Kurt. Kurt was helping.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said again. His voice was scratchy and low from crying and he hated how weak he sounded. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize. I know how hard this is. God, you don't even know that girl. Why was she so mean to you?"

"I don't know."

"And that happens every day?"

Blaine pulled back and looked Kurt in the eyes, nodding.

Kurt reached up a hand and wiped his thumb under Blaine's eyes. "Oh, honey. Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm just used to it now, I guess."

"_No one _should be used to being treated like that."

"You were. In high school."

Kurt stared at him. "That was different."

"Why? Because you could actually handle it? Because you didn't cope with it by making yourself puke?"

Kurt shook his head. "It's not about that. Look, Blaine, I need you to tell me about this kind of stuff. I had no idea."

"Did you think I was lying?"

"No, I just didn't know it was that…cruel. That relentless."

"I deserve it, I guess," Blaine said, looking down.

Kurt put a hand to Blaine's chest. "Honey, no one deserves that, but least of all you. You are so kind and so beautiful. You are talented and gentle and caring and wonderful. You have the most beautiful heart of anyone I've ever met. You do not deserve this, and I don't know why they singled you out, but I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Blaine's head shot up. "No, Kurt, please. Don't do anything. You'll just make it worse."

"We have to do something, Blaine, or they're not going to stop."

"Just leave it be. If we just ignore them they'll get bored and move on."

"It's been months and they haven't moved on. And just because you pretend it doesn't bother you doesn't make it better. It makes it worse. Look at what you're doing to yourself."

"There's nothing we can do."

"We can go to the teachers at NYADA. Tell them they have a major bullying problem."

"This isn't Dalton, Kurt. This is college. They're not going to care."

"Well we have to do something."

"There's nothing we can do," Blaine repeated, sighing in frustration. "Just leave it alone. I don't want to do anything about it and I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"

Kurt blew out a long breath, brushing Blaine's hair off his forehead. "I'll drop it for now. But we're coming back to it."

"Fine."

Kurt pulled Blaine in again, kissing his temple. "I am so sorry this is happening to you, Blaine. You don't deserve it. No matter what you think, you don't."

Blaine nodded. "Thank you, Kurt." He lifted his head and looked at Kurt. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"For what?"

Blaine looked at the toilet.

"Oh. No, I'm not mad. It's okay. It's normal to relapse when you're trying to get better. Kasey said that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there you go. I couldn't possibly be mad at you, not after what I just saw. I understand. It makes me sad that you do this, but I understand. I don't think Santana will be all that mad, either."

"Okay."

Kurt paused, running his hands up and down Blaine's arms. "Are you okay?"

Blaine took in a deep breath, then let it out. "Yeah. I think—I think I'm okay. Now."

"Good. Do you want to get off this floor, then?"

"Yeah."

They untangled themselves from each other and stood up.

Blaine grimaced. "I feel disgusting."

"Do you want to go swim it off in the wave pool? Or would you rather just go home?"

"We can't make Diane and Clare leave."

"After what happened I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

Blaine took a moment to consider it. He really did want to go home, if he was being completely honest. He was miserable here, and he'd continue to be miserable. That girl had ruined his entire kind-of-good day.

But he couldn't let her ruin Kurt's. This was supposed to be a good day for Kurt, for both of them. They were trying. Kurt had been so excited to come here and Blaine couldn't ruin it. Not after how great Kurt had been lately. Especially now, when he could have run. He could have gone and gotten Santana and let her deal with it. Santana was the one who knew how, after all. But no. Kurt had stayed, and he had held Blaine, and he had made sure Blaine felt loved. He couldn't ruin Kurt's day any more than he already had.

"No. We should stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Let's not let that ruin our day, okay? I just want to have fun with you and our friends."

"Okay. Only if you're sure."

"I am."

Blaine went to unlock the stall door and walk out, but Kurt stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Blaine turned around, and Kurt stepped into his space. He slid his hands under Blaine's shirt and held on securely to Blaine's hips—one of Blaine's most insecure areas. He leaned in close, touching noses with Blaine, bumping their foreheads together, breath ghosting over Blaine's lips.

The lightest touch. Lips brushing against each other, but not quite kissing.

"I love you," Kurt whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you. Nothing you do or say will ever change that. No matter what you look like, Blaine, I will always love you."

Blaine's heart stuttered in his chest. His eyebrows knit together and his breathing grew ragged. "I love you too."

And only then did Kurt kiss him—really kiss him. He captured Blaine's lips with his and kissed him with the practiced ease of a couple who has been together for years, attuned to every twitch their partner makes. Their lips moved together slowly, easily. Kurt pulled back after a minute, placing a few chaste kisses on Blaine's lips before stepping back.

Blaine opened the door, then, and they walked out of the stall, ignoring the looks they got.

When they got back to the table, Santana looked ready to pounce on Blaine, but Kurt shot her a quick look that clearly said they'd talk about it later. Diane and Clare only looked slightly uncomfortable, but they both forced smiles and pretended like nothing had happened, asking Kurt and Blaine where they wanted to go next.

Blaine tried to have fun the rest of the day. He really did. He turned his brain off and followed their little group to all the slides and pools, even smiling for most of the day, at least when people were looking.

But on the ride home, he sat by the window, letting Kurt sit in the middle this time. He held Kurt's hand again but leaned his head against the glass, staring out at the things they passed. And it was then that he allowed himself to turn his brain back on. He let the bad thoughts flood him, consume him. All of the harsh things he'd been thinking about himself that he'd ignored that day resurfaced, along with the girl's words from lunch. It all came back to him and he thought for a second about unbuckling his seat belt and opening the car door and jumping out as they sped down the highway.

He knew, then, that the incident in the bathroom at the waterpark would not be a singular thing. Relapsing was normal, after all, and Blaine just wanted to be normal again.


	46. Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

_Summary: This is the next installment of the Bulimic!Blaine verse. Blaine relapses and it becomes more serious than any of them had imagined. TW: Suicidal thoughts/suicide, depression, bulimia, cutting._

_This is written in special dedication to my anon on tumblr who had a bad day. _

_Previous Bulimic!Blaine verse fics are Can't Weigh Me Down, Sick to My Stomach, The Rabbit Hole of Despair, Precipice, and Drowning._

… … …

Day 72.

No, that was not how many days Blaine had been clean and free. On the contrary, that was the number of days Blaine had spent throwing up each and every one of his meals.

It had been a downward spiral from the water park. Blaine tried—he really did. He tried to be better. He gave recovery a shot.

He just couldn't do it.

Santana and Kurt knew. Well, they probably did. Santana watched him like a hawk now, and anytime he went to the bathroom—whether it was after a meal or not—he could swear he could hear her standing outside the door. He usually tried to eat when others weren't around, because then it was easier to throw up. But if they asked him if he ate, he could answer truthfully. Yes. Which made up for the lie he gave them when they asked him if he threw it up.

It was hard, trying to keep this from them but knowing that they knew. It was hard seeing their faces and knowing they were disappointed in him. Blaine would give anything to be like them—to be normal. To not feel this way about himself. But this was who he was now, and he had finally accepted it. Even if it made him sick to his stomach.

He thought about ending it a lot, something he'd never admit to Kasey, even if she did ask him outright.

"How are you feeling today, Blaine?" she asked him.

Blaine hated her. And he hated that he hated her, because she seemed so nice. Her makeup was always tastefully done—not too much, just to accentuate her already pretty face. She had auburn hair to her shoulders that she alternatively straightened or curled. Her smile was so kind, so sincere. And she still drove him insane.

"I don't know," he shrugged. He did know. He felt disgusting and suicidal, like he did every day.

He'd thought things would be better during the summer, because he wouldn't have to face his classmates and their harsh words all the time, but it didn't matter whether they were actually there or not. Their words rang in his ears at all times.

School would be starting up again in a week anyway, and Blaine needed all the strength he could find to get through it. So he was throwing up more often than ever, even if he hadn't had anything to eat that day. Just the dry heaving and gagging was enough to satisfy him, in a way.

"Oh, I'm sure you know how you feel," Kasey said, gently pressing him.

"Anxious, I guess."

"About what?"

"School starting up again."

"Why do you feel anxious about that?"

"Because I'll just be back to being insulted all day every day."

"What about their insults bothers you so much, do you think?"

Blaine shrugged again. He did that a lot in therapy. "I don't know."

"Do you think it's because they're saying things you already think about yourself? And hearing it out loud from another source reinforces those thoughts?"

They'd had this exact conversation probably three or four times, so Blaine knew exactly what to say at this point.

"Yeah, I guess. It's like they're saying all of my worst fears and insecurities out loud, and the more people who agree with me, the less it matters when people like Kurt or Santana tell me otherwise."

That was the truest thing he'd said in there.

Kasey nodded, writing something down on her legal pad that sat on her lap. "Have you felt the need to make yourself throw up lately?"

And now the lying started.

"No."

"No urges whatsoever?"

"I mean, maybe. But Kurt always helps me through them."

"What about cutting?"

"No."

"Suicidal thoughts?"

"No."

Kasey narrowed her eyes at him. "Blaine, you know this only works if you're honest."

"I am being honest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Kasey stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. "Alright."

After their session, Blaine headed back to his apartment. He was supposed to be going over to Kurt's later that night for dinner and a movie on Netflix and he wanted to get a nap in before that. He was always exhausted, one of the side effects of his antidepressants that had never really worn off.

The exhaustion was about the only thing he felt from the meds. They were supposed to make him feel better, but in reality, Blaine just felt worse. All the weight gain they'd caused him made him feel even more insecure, which was what pushed him into throwing up three times a day—if not more.

Before he got into bed, Blaine went into the bathroom. He had a ritual now. He knelt in front of the toilet and threw up the muffin Kasey had forced him to eat in her office, then opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed for the razor blade he kept hidden behind his antidepressants and ibuprofen. Genius, actually, because Sam and Mercedes didn't know enough about Blaine's situation—only that he was on the medication—and they were too uncomfortable to press any further.

Well, Mercedes was. Sam had tried.

"Hey, Blaine, what are these?" Sam asked, stepping into Blaine's room.

Blaine looked up from the book he'd been reading on his bed. "Um…those are my pills."

"For what?"

"For…"

When he trailed off, Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "Yeah?"

"They're…antidepressants," Blaine said. He set the book aside, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep reading now.

"But…why?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Because I'm depressed."

"Dude, why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't really like to talk about it."

"But I'm your best friend."

"I know."

"Is this why you've been so quiet and far away all the time lately? I feel like we never hang out anymore, man. It used to just be you and me. Now you're with Kurt all the time. Which, I totally get, bro, but you could at least spare a day for me every once in a while."

Blaine shrugged. "I'm sorry, Sam. It's just really complicated."

"What else have you been keeping from me?"

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's not a big deal, Sam. I feel better with the pills. I'm fine."

"Okay, but how fine? How serious is this?"

"It's not that serious. I really don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

"No, come on, I want to know this stuff."

Blaine stood up and snatched the orange bottle from Sam's hand. "Well I don't want you to know about it. This is between me and Kurt and my therapist and my psychiatrist and that's it."

"You're going to therapy?"

"I don't want to have this conversation anymore."

He swept off to the bathroom, replacing the bottle in the cabinet. Sam popped up in the doorway. "Well I do."

"Too bad," Blaine said.

He shoved past Sam and went back to his room, slamming the door.

Blaine pushed thoughts of that day out of his head. It'd been a month ago, and now his whole dynamic with Sam had shifted. Blaine lost him as a best friend, and while it hurt, he couldn't help but think that Sam was better off. He already put so much on Kurt and Santana, he didn't need to put that on Sam too.

The blade dragging across the expanse of his stomach made him feel better, though. He sighed in relief as the blood rushed to the surface, beading up along the line. He didn't waste time before drawing more lines, some across his hips and some across his rounded belly. All of the areas that made him feel inadequate, and revolting, and fat. They deserved to be marred. They deserved to suffer.

He let the blood flow for a while, not caring as it seeped into the waistbands of his sweatpants and underwear. Every time he did this, he was reminded of the first time he did it, when Santana caught him. But there was no Santana to ruin it for him now. He was careful—extra careful. He couldn't let her stop him. Not again. He was doing what he needed to in order to survive, and she just didn't understand that.

The only downside to this was not being able to have sex with Kurt. If he got intimate in any way with him, Kurt would see the scars right away, and Blaine couldn't have that. So he'd pushed Kurt away, saying his antidepressants were fucking with his sex drive, and Kurt let it go. There wasn't anything he could do about it.

After a while, Blaine cleaned the cuts and slipped on a black shirt so the blood wouldn't show if it seeped into the fabric. Then, he climbed into bed and fell asleep, comforted by the burning of his esophagus and abdomen.

… … …

His alarm went off a couple hours later. He gave himself a couple minutes to really wake up before slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys.

He didn't really care about his appearance. Not anymore.

Kurt smiled when Blaine walked into the loft, immediately coming over to him.

"Hey, you! How was your day?"

"It was fine," Blaine said.

"Yeah? How was your session with Kasey?"

"I don't know. About as good as therapy sessions can be, I guess."

"And your medication? Is it still working?"

"Yep."

This was how their conversations went now. Greetings, mental health check up, medication check up, and _then _normalcy.

"Good," Kurt said, smiling. He leaned in for a quick kiss. "Santana is out with Diane and Clare tonight on a blind double date, and Rachel is helping Artie with a short film, so it's just you and me tonight."

"Perfect."

They ordered take-out from a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away and ate on the couch, watching a couple episodes of _Golden Girls _on Netflix before they'd start their movie.

After he was done eating, Blaine stood up.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

Kurt frowned. "Right now?"

"Yeah, I went to the gym today and didn't have time to shower before coming over. I just feel all gross."

"You don't seem sweaty."

"It's all dried by now, which is even worse."

Blaine could tell Kurt didn't believe him, but he nodded. "Alright. Movie after?"

"Yeah."

The only reason he wanted to take a shower was so he could throw up and Kurt wouldn't hear him. It was something he'd come up with to be able to eat dinner with his friends at the loft. He always had some reason why he needed to shower right after, which felt less suspicious than just going to the bathroom without reason.

He toweled off his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist, then slipped on a t-shirt before heading into Kurt's room.

Kurt sat on the bed and smiled as Blaine pulled the curtain closed behind him. "Hey. Did you have a nice shower?"

Blaine thought about the greasy Chinese food they'd had that night swirling down the drain. He smiled. "Yeah, it was good."

"Good," Kurt said, smiling.

Blaine shifted his weight awkwardly. "Um, so, I was just gonna throw on some of your pajamas. I'll meet you in the living room?"

"Since when are you shy about changing in front of me? I've been inside of you."

Blaine flushed. "Yeah, I know, it's just… You know, I still feel insecure about my body, and Kasey says that it's completely normal, so…"

"You don't have to feel insecure around me. You know that."

"I know, but… Can I please just change alone? It would make me feel more comfortable."

"Ah, and Kasey also says that you should push yourself in uncomfortable situations if you're with someone you trust and feel safe with. And you trust me, don't you? You feel safe with me?"

God, Blaine really, really hated Kasey.

"Um, yeah, but that's not the point—"

"It's just your pants, Blaine. You've already got a shirt on. Just slip on some sweatpants. You're making this harder than it needs to be."

"Why can't you just leave the room?"

"Why can't you just put on some pants?"

Blaine sighed. He obviously wasn't winning this one. He went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of Kurt's pajama pants from the drawer. Without taking his towel off, he slipped them on, pulling them all the way off before letting the towel drop.

"Happy?"

Kurt didn't look the least bit happy. He frowned, standing up and coming over to Blaine. Blaine took steps backwards, but Kurt just took more forward, and eventually Blaine had been backed up against the wall. Kurt grabbed his hips and gasped.

"Blaine, I can feel your hipbones."

"…So?"

"I couldn't feel them before, and I can now."

"Well that's a good thing. It means my gym membership is paying off."

"No, Blaine—" Kurt lifted his head to look up at him. "Take off your shirt."

Blaine hugged his arms around his middle and ducked his head. "No."

"Yes."

"_No."_

"_Yes."_

"You take off your shirt," Blaine said.

Kurt sighed and took a step back. He lifted his shirt over his head, raising his eyebrows. "There. Now take off yours."

Blaine hadn't expected it to go quite that way. He shook his head. "I can't."

Before Blaine even knew what was happening, Kurt had grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off.

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped. "_Blaine."_

Blaine wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to cover the cuts on the _disgusting _packets of fat. "It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Blaine, oh my god… How did I not _see _this? Your bones are sticking out, and you've got cuts all over. Oh, honey…"

"My bones are _not_sticking out. It's not a big deal," Blaine said.

"Not a big deal? This is self-mutilation. This is _starvation_. This is not giving your body _anything _to survive."

"You have it all wrong," Blaine said. He leaned down and grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on. "This is what I'm doing _to _survive."

"Blaine…"

"Just leave it alone, okay?"

"I can't do that! You look like a tortured concentration camp prisoner! My god, Blaine, how long has this been happening again?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "As if you didn't know, Kurt. You knew. Don't play dumb."

"I—I—I didn't think it was this bad. If I'd had any idea… I—I just thought it was every once in a while, enough to keep you going, and I told myself that it was fine, it—it was okay, because you were going to therapy and you're on the medication and you'll feel better soon. But this… I can't believe I didn't see how—how _bad_ it is."

"It's not that bad," Blaine snapped. "I'm fine."

Kurt's eyes were wide with tears as he shouted, "_You're dying_!" He paused, taking deep breaths. His voice was shaky and wet. "Don't you see that?"

After a long moment, Blaine muttered, "I don't care."

"You don't care? You don't _care_?"

Blaine covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply.

"Blaine, do you want to kill yourself?"

He took a long time to answer, debating whether to tell the truth or not. He'd gotten so used to lying that it felt weird to tell the truth, and he knew if he did then it would be all over.

It was already all over, though. Now that Kurt had seen, now that he knew for sure, there was no way Blaine would be allowed to live like this anymore. And if he couldn't keep throwing up, if he couldn't keep cutting himself, then he knew it was only a matter of time.

So might as well tell the truth.

"Yes."

Kurt choked on a sob, then cleared his throat, obviously trying to hold it together. "Okay, um—alright, I'm not letting you out of my sight, not anymore. You and I are going to be attached at the hip."

"Kurt—"

"No. I'm not letting this happen. I will not let you kill yourself, do you hear me? You're not allowed."

"I wasn't allowed to throw up or cut myself and I still did that," Blaine muttered.

Kurt gawked at him, then shook his head. "Well, not anymore. I won't let you do this. You're sleeping here and eating here and you're not allowed to go to the bathroom alone anymore."

"Right, because me shitting with you in there isn't going to kill the romance."

"I don't care. I am going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe from now on. No matter what."

Blaine huffed. "Fine."

It didn't matter anyway. Kurt would have to leave him alone at some point. There was no way they could stay joined at the hip forever. And when that happened, Blaine would do whatever he felt like he needed to do to stay sane.

He took the few steps towards the bed and crawled under the covers, facing away from Kurt. A moment later, he felt the bed dip behind him, and Kurt slipped in too.

"It's not even nine o'clock," Blaine sighed. "You can't possibly be tired."

"Doesn't matter."

Blaine groaned and rolled his eyes, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, further away from Kurt.

… … …

The next morning, Blaine awoke to the sight of Kurt staring at him.

"Seriously?" he asked, sighing.

Kurt pressed his lips together. "You look so much happier when you sleep. So much more…peaceful."

"That's because I'm dreaming about dying."

Kurt flinched. "You didn't have to tell me that."

"Complete honesty now, right?"

"Yeah…"

At the look on Kurt's face, Blaine deflated.

He'd been in defense mode all last night and it had transferred to this morning, but now, really looking at Kurt's face, Blaine felt the full weight of guilt on his chest. The sadness in Kurt's eyes was exactly why Blaine couldn't bring himself to regret losing his friendship with Sam. Even though it hurt, and even thought Blaine wished things were different, he knew he couldn't be that selfish. Because he couldn't stand to see that level of hurt in Kurt's eyes, and he knew it would only feel worse if he saw it in others'.

"I'm sorry," Blaine sighed. "I just feel…"

"I know. I'm sorry I've let you down. I should've stopped you the second I knew you started hurting yourself again. The cutting I didn't know about, but the throwing up… I should've done something. I'm responsible for this."

"No, Kurt—" Blaine frowned, cradling the side of Kurt's face with his hand. "Look, I'd explain this to you, but I really don't want you to understand it."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't wish the way I feel on anyone."

Kurt's face fell. He traced Blaine's chest, fingers dancing over Blaine's collarbones, tangible even through his shirt fabric. "If I'm going to be able to help you, I need to know, Blaine."

"That's just the thing. No one can help me. We've tried, with Kasey, and with the medication, but none of it's working. I'm beyond saving."

"No one is beyond saving."

Blaine blinked up at Kurt. "I am."

Before Kurt had a chance to reply, Blaine tossed the covers off and slipped out of bed, heading into the kitchen. Santana and Rachel were already at the table, mugs of coffee in front of each of them.

"Good morning, Blaine!" Rachel chirped. "And you, Kurt!"

"Morning, Rachel," Blaine said, plopping down at the opposite end of the table.

"There's more coffee if you two would like some," she said, smiling.

Kurt nodded, heading towards the pot.

Blaine looked over at Santana when he felt her staring at him. "Hey."

"Hey," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You good?"

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah."

Santana looked away, and Blaine followed her gaze over to Kurt, who was shaking his head. She looked back at him and gave him a pointed look that clearly said they'd talk about it later.

"How did you two sleep? I had on my noise cancelling headphones, just in case," Rachel said, winking at Blaine.

"Appreciated, but not necessary, Rachel," Kurt said. "We just wanted to have a quiet night in last night."

"That's nice too," she said.

The tension in the room was palpable, but Rachel seemed completely oblivious to it. Kurt came over to the table, sitting next to Blaine and setting a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Thanks," Blaine said.

"You're welcome."

They sat in relative silence for ten minutes before Rachel stood up. "Well, a star's work is never done. I'm off to a run-through of _Funny Girl _before tonight's performance, just to brush up and make sure everything is still perfect. I'll see you guys later!"

Once the door slid shut, Santana pounced. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" Blaine asked, staring down into his coffee.

"Whatever happened last night. Something's wrong. He's throwing up again, isn't he?"

"And cutting," Kurt said quietly.

Santana swore under her breath. "I knew it."

"If you two knew the whole time, you can't possibly be mad at me. That's not fair," Blaine said.

"Oh, I can still be mad at you, Blaine. You know this is wrong," Santana said.

Blaine shrugged. "I couldn't help it."

"Bullshit."

"It's not—"

"We already talked about it," Kurt cut in. "Just leave it, Santana."

"What, so now you two are shoving me out? Don't forget I'm the one who even alerted you to these problems in the first place, Kurt."

"I want to die, okay?" Blaine snapped. He looked up at her, ignoring her shocked expression. "Every hour of every day I am constantly thinking of my own death. And you and Kurt, you guys have put this pressure on me to keep living, for you. Not for me. For you. Because you guys can't live without me. Well, that's what I'm doing. I'm living. It may not be by your standards, but you can't tell me I have to live and then make me do it by your rules. You want me to live? Fine. That's what I'm doing. But I'm doing it on my terms. Not yours."

Santana stared at him, mouth open and eyes hard. "I…"

For once, she was speechless.

"I know," Kurt said. Blaine looked at him and noted how defeated he looked.

"And you weren't going to tell me about this?" Santana asked, staring at Kurt.

"It's not his place," Blaine said, voice hard. "These are _my _problems. This is _my _life. You guys have butted into it and forced yourselves into my secrets. According to Kurt I'm not even allowed to shit by myself anymore. I didn't give either of you permission to get so personal with me, and it's not fair that I don't get a say."

"You don't get a say because when you do, you say things like 'I want to die' that make me want to force you into a mental hospital," Santana snapped. "You don't get to have a private life anymore. Not when you do things like cutting yourself and keeping yourself from getting the proper nutrition you need to survive."

"This is so much bigger than just bullies now," Kurt said quietly. "This is something…much, much deeper."

"No shit, Sherlock," Santana said.

Blaine narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't be a bitch to Kurt. You can be mad at me all you want, but don't be rude to him. He doesn't deserve it."

"He's let this go on!"

"So have you!"

Santana sighed. "Fine." She turned her gaze on Kurt. "What are we doing about this?"

"I told him he's not allowed out of my sight anymore."

"That's it?"

"What more can we do? He's already in therapy and on medication."

"Maybe we need to change his medication. Didn't Dr. Norton say this was a possibility? That the medication could make it worse? We need to try a new one."

"Alright, then we'll call him and set up an appointment to switch Blaine onto a new medication."

"Prozac maybe?"

"No, that's what he's on and it isn't working. Zoloft?"

Blaine cleared his throat. "I'm right here."

"Yeah, and we already established you don't get a say because your say sucks," Santana snapped.

Blaine shook his head and stood up. "Fine. I'm going for a walk."

"Not alone, you're not," Kurt said, standing up too.

Blaine glared at him. "You guys can stay here and discuss my mental health as long as you want. I don't care. Go to town. But I'm going on a walk—_alone_—and I'll come back soon."

"We'll go with you."

"The whole point is to get _away _from you."

"Well you can't."

Blaine clenched his jaw. He stalked over to the knife block and grabbed one, holding it up to them. "See this? It's a knife. It can kill me. So can the rest of the knives in this block. I'm not any safer here than I am out there. There's no point in keeping me here."

"Blaine, put that down," Kurt said evenly.

"Not until you agree to let me go out alone."

"Blaine—"

"Agree."

Kurt sighed. "Fine."

"Kurt!" Santana said.

"Be back in half an hour," Kurt told him.

Blaine put the knife back. "Fine."

Before either of them could say any more, Blaine slid the door open and left.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, looking both ways before deciding to head right. He pushed his way through the crowd, getting lost in the sea of people. It felt good not to stand out for once. Not to be the glaring mistake amongst his friends. No one out here knew his problems. They didn't know him at all. He was just some random stranger they passed on the street on their way to get wherever they were going.

It was liberating, somehow. The anonymity. Blaine didn't feel like such a freak out here, walking down the street. He felt normal. He felt like just another face on the earth. For some people, he thought, this was terrifying. The thought that they would never stand out, never be extraordinary, scared them. But not Blaine. No, he found comfort in it.

He stood at several stoplights, waiting with several others for the crosswalk to guarantee them safety as they crossed the street. At around the fourth or fifth one, Blaine thought, what's the point? Why stay safe as he crossed the road? He didn't care, anyway, and he didn't have much to go back to at the loft.

There was Kurt, and Blaine would miss him terribly in death, but not the way they were now. Their relationship wasn't even a relationship anymore. There was no romance, no intimacy. It was all about Blaine's mental health. _Everything _was about his mental health these days, and he was tired of it. If he couldn't live the way he wanted to, then what was the point?

Santana and Kurt were all up in arms about his habits, but he honestly didn't see what was so wrong with them. Other people got piercings and tattoos, Blaine cut himself. It was all the same. I was enduring pain on your body for a positive result. It was all self-mutilation, really. And the throwing up? God, who didn't do that these days? It was just another form of extreme dieting—no different than the crazy pills he'd considered when all of this first became a problem.

The next crosswalk he stood at, Blaine watched all of the taxis and cars zoom by, standing with the rest of the crowd. There were several women and men, some children. He'd scar them for life, but then, maybe it would help them. They could use the pain and horror they felt at watching a man die by stepping into traffic to make beautiful art, or counsel other people in their grief later on in life.

All Blaine wanted was to make art and help people. If he died, he could help these people around him to do that for him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. One, two, three. He stepped off the curb.


	47. And I Will Try to Fix You

_Summary: Part 7 of Bulimic!Blaine verse. Kurt finds out about Blaine stepping into traffic. TW: suicide/suicide attempt, depression, bulimia/ed, self harm._

_Rettastarkidklainer prompted me: Could you do another where Blaine attempts suicide again but 'succeeds' and gets revived?_

_And an anon on tumblr prompted me recently in regards to the last installment: Yo so could I request for when Kurt finds about about Blaine's suicide attempt, could you maybe have him collapse and cry out "my baby, my baby, oh god my baby" or something along the lines of that. I just want Kurt to cry out a pet name for him. Cause... The feels._

… … …

"We should go after him," Kurt said again. He shook his head and paced in front of the loft door. "He's been gone over an hour, Santana."

"And he was really mad when he left. He's frustrated. Just give him a little time to breathe," Santana said, sitting at the kitchen table.

"How much? An hour? Two? He needs to come home. Now."

"Have you tried calling him?"

Kurt whirled on her. "Wow, I hadn't thought of that! Thanks, Santana! I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"Unnecessary, Kurt. It's only been an hour."

"Why aren't you more panicked by this?"

"Because I've been in Blaine's shoes. Not suicidal, but I've been in that place where you just feel really bad about yourself. And I understand that he needs time and space, even if it's only for a little while. Maybe we've been pushing him too hard."

"Oh, this coming from you," Kurt scoffed. "_You're _the one who's been pushing him. _You're _the one who's been hard on him. I've been trying to remind him that he's loved and cared for and that he's beautiful and perfect the way he is."

"And I haven't?" Santana asked, voice rising. "Let me tell you something, Hummel. I love Blaine. I _love _him more than you could possibly imagine. That kid is like a brother to me-no, he _is _my brother. He is the closest thing I've ever had to family. And I will _not _let you tell me that I don't care about him or that I've been pushing him too hard. This whole situation has been fucked from the beginning, but I haven't done a single thing that I didn't think would help."

Kurt took a few deep breaths before nodding. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just scared."

"I know. I am too." Santana stood up and grabbed Kurt's shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. "He's going to be okay."

Kurt opened his mouth to answer but stopped when he felt his phone vibrating in his hand. "Maybe it's Blaine. Hello?"

_"Is this Kurt Hummel speaking?"_

"Yes, this is he."

_"This is Maria down at Lincoln Medical Center. Your fiancé, Blaine Anderson, has just been brought in-"_

Kurt's heart stopped. His breath was taken from his lungs. Everything seemed to hang in the air, caught in the moment. "Wait, what?"

_"He was involved in a car accident at a crosswalk. He's been brought in and-"_

"Is he okay?!"

Santana's eyebrows raised, but Kurt hardly noticed enough to care.

_"We're not sure yet, but-"_

"You're not sure yet? WHO SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT?"

_"We'd need you to come down here, Mr. Hummel, and the doctors can better explain the situation and keep you updated as the surgery progresses."_

"Surgery? Why is he in surgery? _What happened?!_"

_"He was hit by a car as he was crossing the street, from what we've gathered from witnesses."_

The phone dropped from Kurt's hand. The sound reverberated around the apartment, a stark contrast to the silence.

Kurt couldn't breathe. Santana was asking him what was wrong, what happened, was Blaine okay, but Kurt couldn't _breathe _so how could she expect him to talk? He watched her pick up the phone but her face told him the nurse had already hung up. Then she started shaking his shoulders, trying to get him to snap out of it.

She finally slapped him. "_Kurt! _What happened?!"

Kurt stared at her with wide eyes before the reality caught up with him. It hit him like a freight train-or, oh god, like a _car. _He fell to the ground and dissolved into sobs that wracked his whole body. "Oh, god. Oh my-_Blaine. _Honey, oh god, what did you _do?_"

"What? What did he do?" Santana asked, kneeling in front of him. "Kurt, talk to me, come on. You're scaring me."

"Honey, oh honey, oh my-I can't-Santana, I can't _breathe._"

"Take in a deep breath, Kurt, come on. In... Really slow... Yeah, like that. Push it back out-no slowly. More slowly. Yeah, there you go. Do it again... Yeah, that's it."

Kurt did as he was told, but the physical aching in his chest didn't let up. "My-my honey, my Blaine, he-"

"What did he _do, _Kurt?"

"He tried to kill himself," Kurt said, looking up at her. Because he was sure of it. Blaine knew how to cross a street, he wasn't a child. This was not an accident. "He stepped into moving traffic. He got hit by a car."

"Fuck," Santana said. She looked around, staring at the ground, then shook her head. "Fuck! God damn it, Blaine, _fuck!" _She turned to Kurt, staring down at him. "Fuck, okay, we have to go. What hospital did they take him to?"

"Lincoln."

"Okay, that's not too far, let's go."

Kurt blinked up at her, eyelashes wet. He couldn't tell if he was still crying or not. "What if he's dead?"

"He's not dead," Santana told him, but her voice shook and neither of them believed it. "He's not dead. Now let's go."

... ... ...

Kurt tripped at least four times on the way there. They took a taxi because it was faster and Kurt felt nauseous the whole way there. What if it had been a taxi that hit him? What if their taxi hit someone else on the way there? He'd wanted to take the subway, but he knew it would take longer to wait for the right train.

They raced into the ER together. Kurt thought fleetingly how impressive it was that Santana could run and keep up with him in those heels, but then he realized that it didn't matter because Blaine could be _dead._

"Kurt-Kurt Hummel," he stuttered, slamming his body into the desk. The nurse jumped, startled, and looked up at him. "I'm here for Blaine Anderson."

She tapped on the computer for a minute. "Yes, Mr. Anderson is in surgery at the moment, but feel free to take a seat in our waiting room-"

"No, I don't want to take a seat, I want you to tell me if my fiancé is going to live or not," Kurt snapped.

The nurse gave him a tight, sympathetic smile. "I can assure you that the doctors are doing all that they can to save him."

"How bad was it?"

"I'll make sure a doctor visits to update you on Blaine's condition shortly."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"I don't have enough information."

"Then what are you good for!" Kurt shouted, eyes watering again.

Santana grabbed his shoulders, leading him away from the desk and into the waiting area. "Come on. We're going to go wait and you're going to stop lashing out at people who are doing their best to help you."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Kurt asked, pulling away from her.

She set her jaw. "Because if I let myself feel what I actually feel right now, then we're both going to be hysterical, and that won't be useful for anyone. Blaine needs us to be strong right now. He _needs _us to be there for him. Alright?"

Kurt inhaled deeply and sat down on one of the waiting room chairs. He dropped his head into his hands and cried again. "I can't believe I just let him go like that. I knew he wasn't stable and I just _let him go."_

"We both did, Kurt. We both did," Santana said. He felt her hand on his back and peeked through his fingers to see that she'd sat down next to him.

"Why did we do that? I should have stood my ground-should have ignored him-should have taken the knife out of his hand and told him to quit fucking around."

"Except he wasn't fucking around. He was serious."

Kurt sobbed again. "Oh, _honey."_

Santana rubbed his back as they waited...

And waited...

And waited...

And, _god, _how long would they have to wait? Kurt's whole body was shaking. The longer it took, the worse it was, right? Or maybe it was a good thing, because if they came soon, it would mean that he was dead. It would be bad news. So it was good if they took a while, right? That's what Kurt told himself, at least.

"Family of Blaine Anderson?"

Kurt shot out of his chair so fast he felt several joints pop. "Me! That's me."

The doctor came over to him, hair still wrapped up in her scrub cap. Her eyes were sympathetic, but not overly so, and Kurt took that as a good sign. "Blaine is still in surgery at the moment. He suffered a lot of injuries; a lot of broken bones and bruising. The amount of internal bleeding worried us for a while until we were able to locate the source, but we got it under control. He has a hematoma, which basically means bleeding in the brain that can collect and form a clot. He flat-lined on the table, but we were able to revive him and his heart's been beating strong since. We have one of the best neurosurgeons on the country working on him, though, so we're optimistic."

"Whoa, wait, he _flat-lined?_ Doesn't that mean he died?" Kurt asked, heart hammering in his chest. He put a hand to his heart as his breathing grew shallow. "He died? _He died? _What are you people doing in there!"

"I assure you, we're doing the best we can. It's touch and go, but we are optimistic that he'll pull through. I'll come by again when Blaine gets out of surgery."

"How long will that take?"

"We're not sure. I'll be back as soon as he's out."

The doctor walked away, then, just like that. She came and delivered the worst news of Kurt's life and then left.

Kurt turned to Santana, shaking, and said, "You lied to me."

All she could do was nod. "I did."

"He-he _died."_

"But they brought him back, Kurt. He's going to be okay."

"HE DIED, SANTANA! HOW IS ANY OF THIS OKAY?"

"Okay, you need to calm down," Santana said, grabbing for him.

Kurt pulled away and stared at her. "What is _wrong _with you? How can you be so stoic about this?"

"Because you are being irrational enough for the both of us."

"Irrational? _Irrational? _My fiancé _died, _Santana. He stepped into oncoming traffic on purpose and tore his body to shreds and _died. _It doesn't matter if he's back, because nothing will ever be the same. Who is that in there? Because-Because I don't even recognize him anymore! The boy who would walk in front of a car going 50 miles per hour-that's not Blaine. Who is that? My Blaine would _never _do that. My Blaine was-was _happy _and just bursting at the seams with joy and encouragement!

"And you-you're just _standing there, _and you don't feel _anything, _and just earlier this evening you called him your brother, Santana. Where is that now, huh? He got hit by a car _on purpose _and he _died _and you don't even _care!"_

"I care, Kurt, okay?!" Santana shouted. Her face was growing red and Kurt instantly felt a rush of remorse and sick satisfaction, because at least now he wasn't going through this alone. "I care too fucking much, and if I let myself go crazy like you are, we're going to get ourselves kicked out of here! And then Blaine will be alone and we won't get an update and we won't know if he even _makes it off the table _or if he fucking _dies again! _So don't fucking call me _stoic, _alright? Not when I'm the only one holding this whole fucking thing together."

Kurt fell backwards into his chair, dropping his forehead down onto his knees and wrapping his arms around them. "I can't believe this is happening. It started so small and now-now we're _here. _I mean, how did we get here? How did we get to this point?"

"We kept thinking it was going to get better," Santana said softly. "We kept thinking that if we loved him hard enough, he'd stop. That it would be enough for him. But it wasn't, and he got worse. We were foolish to think love could fix him."

Kurt dissolved into tears again.

... ... ...

When the doctor returned four hours later, she told Kurt that they'd had to put him into a medically induced coma to give his brain injury time to heal enough.

"A coma?" Kurt asked. The words rang in his heart and reminded him of his dad. "Isn't that a bad thing?"

"If it happens naturally, yes, but this was medically induced. Blaine's brain needs time to properly heal from the surgery. When his numbers look good, we can slowly stop the medicine and wake him up."

"And how long will that take?"

"I can't say for certain. It may be a few days, maybe a week. We can't know for sure yet. He'll be closely monitored in the ICU until his vitals improve, and then we'll move him to the general recovery wing."

"ICU. Intensive care."

"Blaine's injuries were quite extensive and very severe. He's lucky to be alive, Mr. Hummel."

The words broke Kurt's heart, because he knew if Blaine were here to hear them, he'd think differently.

"So what do we do? Can I stay? Can I see him?"

The doctor hesitated. "Yes, you can see him, but you can't stay. We don't allow overnight visitors in the ICU."

"Not even spouses?"

"The hospital can't legally recognize you as spouses yet, so no."

Kurt wanted to kick himself for not eloping with Blaine over the summer. "O-Okay. Okay. I'll just see him now then, if that's alright."

"Of course."

Kurt turned to Santana. "Are you coming?"

Santana shook her head. "No. You go ahead. I'll wait here."

"Thank you, Santana," Kurt said.

She nodded.

Kurt followed the doctor down a few halls and around some corners until she stopped in front of a doorway. Kurt could barely make out Blaine's figure through the little window, and then she opened the door for him, and he stepped in, and he almost turned right back around.

Blaine wasn't just bruised, he was _broken. _He was covered in plaster casts and bandages. His right arm and leg were both completely encased in casts and his head had a huge white bandage wrapped around it. His torso looked big, too, under the blankets, and Kurt knew it couldn't have been from his body. It had to be bandages.

"Blaine was severely underweight when he was brought in," the doctor said. He jumped, having forgotten she was even there. "And it was hard to tell because of the injuries, but there were scars along his lower abdomen that appeared to be self-inflicted. Would you know anything about that?"

Kurt took in a deep breath and nodded. "He-He's been suffering from bulimia for a while now. And cutting. He's just been hurting himself. We tried to help him on our own, and then we got him therapy and antidepressants, but nothing seemed to be working."

The doctor was quiet for a moment. "I'll send someone from psych here when we wake him up."

"Thank you," Kurt said.

He stepped fully into the room and heard the door click shut behind him, thankful to the doctor for giving him privacy.

There was a chair by the bed, but Kurt didn't want to sit in it. He couldn't. He'd sat in too many hospital chairs by too many hospital beds and he was tired of it. His mom, his dad, even Blaine when he had the eye surgery. He was done with sitting by hospital beds.

He stood on Blaine's left side and took his hand, tears springing to his eyes. "Blaine?"

Blaine didn't make any indication that he'd heard him. The only sound in the room was his heart monitor beeping steadily. But Kurt had read that patients in comas can hear you when you talk to them, so he continued.

"Honey, I know things have been bad. I'm sorry I didn't do more to help you. I'm sorry I let you go, and I'm sorry..." Kurt choked on a sob, covering his mouth and wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry my love wasn't enough to fix you."

The beeping continued in the background.

Kurt sat in the chair.

... ... ...

His head was _pounding. _That was the first thing Blaine registered when he woke up. He wanted to open his eyes, but _god _his head hurt, and he just didn't have the energy.

There was some kind of beeping, somewhere far off, and then a voice.

"Blaine? Blaine, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Blaine hadn't even realized there was a hand holding his, but once it was brought to his attention, he felt a familiar warmth. He squeezed his fingers.

"Oh my god, you're awake! You're awake! What do I do? Do I call a nurse? Nurse!"

Blaine groaned, turning his head. It felt thick. He tried to raise up a hand to feel it, but his arm felt too heavy to move. He squinted open his eyes and saw that his right arm was in a plaster cast.

"Don't try to move, baby, it's okay. I called a nurse. They'll give you some pain medication."

Footsteps, then. Blaine definitely heard footsteps.

"You feeling a lot of pain, Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine nodded as best he could at the voice.

"We'll get you feeling better in no time. I'm glad to see you're awake!"

He nodded again, then listened to the footsteps walk away. The hand in his squeezed, calling his attention to it again. Blaine turned his head towards it, blinking open his eyes. "Hurts."

"Oh, honey, I know. It'll be okay."

Kurt came into focus next to him. Or, someone who looked like Kurt. But this couldn't possibly be Kurt, because this guy was disheveled and his hair was falling limply in front of his eyes-his eyes with very dark circles under them. And he was wearing _sweatpants. _In _public. _

"Kurt?"

"Yeah, baby, it's me," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand again.

The hospital bed dipped on Blaine's left side as Kurt sat down. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Blaine frowned, trying to think, but it just _hurt. _"No. Do you know?"

Kurt smiled tightly. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're okay. You're awake finally and you're okay."

"How long was I out?"

"A week."

Blaine's eyes widened. "A week?"

"Yeah. Because of the brain surgery, they had to keep you in a coma until your brain had time to heal enough for you to be conscious again."

"Brain surgery? Kurt, what happened?"

Kurt's face fell. He looked away. "What do you last remember?"

"Um... I don't know? Being at the loft with you. That's about it. It's all really fuzzy. Maybe Santana was there?"

"Yeah, um... We had a fight, the three of us. And you left; you said you were just going for a quick walk, and then..." Kurt cleared his throat, obviously trying not to cry.

Blaine frowned. "And then what, Kurt?"

"You stepped off the curb. You walked in front of a car. It hit you."

"Oh." Blaine looked down at himself, at the casts and the bandages and the bruises and the cuts. "I tried to kill myself."

"You did. You succeeded, actually. You died on the table in the operating room. They revived you."

Blaine shut his eyes. He tried to think back to it, to remember the moment he decided to step in front of the car, but he couldn't. His mind was blank.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," he said. "I don't remember it, but I'm so sorry."

Kurt's body sagged like Blaine had said the exact words he'd been waiting to hear. "I'm just so glad you're okay, honey. That's all. We'll get you help, okay? Real help this time."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

And then Kurt just let go. Blaine watched in awe as Kurt dissolved in front of him, falling forward and laying in the empty space on the bed beside Blaine, his legs still hanging off the side. Whatever Blaine was saying, it wasn't what Kurt had expected. Or maybe it was, and he was relieved. Either way, Blaine thought that maybe these tears were a mixture of sad and happy.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay," Blaine said. He wanted to rub Kurt's back, but Kurt was kind of laying on his left arm, and his right arm couldn't really move.

"You're okay," Kurt repeated. He sat up and wiped his eyes, staring at Blaine, unbelieving. "You're really okay. God, they told me... They said the coma was a good thing, but I was skeptical, after my dad. But you're okay and you're awake and-Blaine, I'm just so happy you're _alive._ "

Blaine nodded, lifting his now free left hand to wipe at Kurt's eyes. "Yeah, I know. Me too."

"You really mean that? You're not just saying it? Because you can't just say things to placate me anymore. You kept saying you were being honest and you _weren't_ , Blaine, you were _lying _ to me and then you _died. _ You have to be honest with me. You _have _ to."

"Okay. Yeah, I will."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'll try my best."

Kurt nodded. "Okay. Okay."

The door opened and a doctor came in. "Hello, Blaine."

"Um... Hi?"

She smiled kindly. "I'm Dr. Pierce. I've been working on your case. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. In pain?"

"That's to be expected. You did quite a number on yourself."

"Technically the car did it, right?"

Dr. Pierce stared into his eyes. "Did it?"

Blaine looked away.

"Well, I'm going to do a check up on you and make sure everything is looking like it's healing properly. Afterwards, and I spoke to Kurt about this, I'd like to have someone from the psych floor to come evaluate you."

"The psych floor?" Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. He looked to Kurt. "Was this your idea?"

"It was all mine," Dr. Pierce said. "You're severely underweight, Blaine. We also found fresh cuts and older scars that appear to have been self-inflicted on your lower abdomen. It's clear to us that you've been suffering from an eating disorder and self-harm and it's in your best interest to be admitted to the psychiatric floor, once you've recovered enough here."

Blaine's mouth fell open. He looked between them, back and forth from Kurt to Dr. Pierce. They both looked perfectly serious. "Um, thank you, really, but no thank you. I have school in-" Blaine's eyes popped. "Oh my god, school's started by now, hasn't it?"

Kurt gave him a half-smile and nodded. "Yeah. But don't worry, I've alerted Madame Tibideaux to your situation and she said that you can just enroll in classes next semester."

"I'm losing a _whole semester?"_

"Blaine, I don't think you understand how serious this is," Dr. Pierce said. "Your recovery process will be quite extensive. There was damage to the muscles and tendons that will require physical therapy. You may not recover full use of your right arm or leg."

"What? Why? _How?_ "

"From what we've gathered from witnesses at the scene, the car hit you at your thighs and you rolled onto the hood, then fell off and landed hard on your right side. You're lucky to be alive, Blaine."

"Oh my god." Blaine looked down at his body, and for the first time, he didn't feel disgusting because of his weight. He couldn't even _see _ his weight. No, he was horrified by the casts and the bandages and the bruises. He lifted the blanket and gasped at the deep purple bruising on his upper thigh-the one he could see, anyway. "Oh my god."

Kurt put a hand on his chest. "Blaine, honey, calm down. It'll be okay. You're going to be fine."

Blaine looked at Kurt with wide eyes. "I'm scared."

"It's okay. You don't have to be. I'll be with you the whole time, okay? Every step of the way. We'll get through this together. I know you hate when I lump us together, but that's the way it is. We're in this together now. I'm just as hurt by what you've been doing as you are. But we're going to work through it and we'll both be stronger for it."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so, so sorry," Blaine said.

Kurt smiled and nodded. "I know, honey. I know."

Blaine looked at him and he could tell that Kurt did know, he did, and that made him feel a little better, even if it was marginal.

He remembered feeling depressed and terrible for a year, and the cutting, and the bulimia. He remembered all of the things leading up to the car. He even remembered standing on the ledge of Kurt's fire escape. But he couldn't remember the moment he decided to step off that curb, and it would forever haunt him.

He knew, then, that he had to get better. And it couldn't just be for Kurt, and it couldn't just be for Santana. It had to be for himself.

"Okay. You can call whoever from the psych floor. I'll do it."

Dr. Pierce nodded. "I'll have a nurse page Dr. Karrington shortly. I need to check you over first, make sure all your injuries are healing properly."

Kurt got up from the bed and stood by the wall, crossing his arms behind his back and waiting. Blaine fixed his gaze on him as Dr. Pierce checked him over, touching various body parts and jotting down random numbers.

Blaine knew that if he had any hope of getting through this, he'd need Kurt there. Yes, he needed to do it for himself, but he knew he couldn't do it alone. Not without Kurt. But the way Kurt stood against that wall, steady and sure, it didn't look like Kurt was going anywhere anytime soon, and Blaine knew he'd be okay.


	48. Puppy Love

_Summary: Reaction fic for 5x19. Basically all the missing Blaine/Klaine stuff._

_(Not that Chris is bad for leaving it out. He's amazing and the episode was perf. He only had 40 min to work with. Baby did an amazing job. Four for you, Chris Colfer. You go Chris Colfer)._

… … …

"Guess what!"

Blaine looks up from his book at the kitchen table. "What?"

"I'm going to be Peter in a production of _Peter Pan_!"

"Kurt, that's great!"

Kurt nods, beaming. "It's at that old folks home I told you about. They're all so sweet! And it's such an honor to be working with so many talented Broadway veterans."

Blaine laughs and comes to greet Kurt at the door, giving him a kiss. "I'm very proud of you. And I will be there at every performance."

"Well, you don't have to be there for _every _performance, but I appreciate the dedication."

They head back over to the table where Blaine settles back into the chair in front of his open textbook and Kurt stands behind him, holding the back of the chair. "What are you working on?"

"Just some music theory homework. I'm weeks behind because I'm always with June."

"Ah, yes, June," Kurt sighs, walking away and heading towards the fridge.

Blaine looks up. "Yeah? What about her?"

"You're just always so busy with her," Kurt says, pulling out a tub of ice cream. He grabs a spoon from the drawer and comes to sit next to Blaine at the table. "I feel like I never see you anymore. You have your thing with June, and Rachel and Santana are doing their dog charity thing, and Mercedes has her album and Sam has his modeling."

"And you have _Peter Pan,_" Blaine says, touching Kurt's knee.

"For now. But what's going to happen for me when it's over? I'll still be stuck in this rut while everyone around me is climbing to the top."

"Hey, what happened to teamwork, huh? What's good for one of us is good for both of us?"

"Except it's not me that June is wining and dining and introducing to all these amazing people. You're the one getting the recognition, Blaine, and I don't blame you for it. You know I'm happy for you. It's just hard watching while I'm still stuck on the sidelines, like always." Kurt digs his spoon a little too forcefully into the ice cream, making a face.

Blaine tilts his head and sighs. "Look, I know it's hard. I bring you up with June every chance I get, Kurt, I swear. But something good and amazing is going to happen for you too. All those elderly Broadway actors are good connections for you. They may not be in the business anymore, but that doesn't mean they don't still have some pull. Their names will still carry weight. It may seem small, but this role in _Peter Pan _will be really good for you. I can feel it."

Kurt smiles into his ice cream. He looks up and meets Blaine's eye, placing a hand over Blaine's on his knee. "Thank you for always being so supportive. You know just what to say."

"And I will always be here to encourage you, no matter what. Even if I have to blow off June, I will be here for you. Okay?"

"Love you," Kurt says.

Blaine smiles and leans across Kurt's tub of ice cream to give him a kiss. "Love you too."

… … …

A couple days later, Blaine's lying on the couch, reading a magazine with the TV on for background noise. June is in London so he has a few days to himself, finally. He intends to spend every second with Kurt, but Kurt is currently at rehearsal, so Blaine takes the shining opportunity for alone time and binges on _Vogue _and a TLC marathon of _Four Weddings. _

When Kurt finally does come home in his work uniform later that night, he looks exhausted. He drops his bag by the door and walks with purpose towards Blaine, laying opposite him on the couch and tangling their legs together. Blaine promptly puts down the magazine and takes off Kurt's shoes, rubbing his feet.

Kurt moans. "Ugh, that's wonderful. I knew there was a reason why I want to marry you."

"I should hope more than one," Blaine laughs.

Kurt smiles, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch. "Yeah, maybe."

"Long day?"

"Classes all morning, then rehearsal this afternoon, then a full shift at the diner and it was _crazy _today. I haven't had a moment to rest since I got out of bed this morning."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Is there anything I can do?"

"You keep putting those magic fingers of yours to use."

Blaine chuckles and nods. "Alright."

They sit in silence for a while. Kurt closes his eyes and rests while Blaine turns his attention back to a girl's gothic, Halloween-themed wedding. His and Kurt's wedding is going to be _so _much more tasteful than that. And not during the fall. This Halloween wedding has ruined Blaine's taste for fall weddings.

"We can't forget about our kids," Kurt says.

Blaine frowns at him. "Um…what?"

Kurt lifts his head up and looks at Blaine seriously. "When we get married and have kids, we can't forget about them," he says, voice adamant and urgent. Like this is the most important thing they've ever discussed.

"Well, of course," Blaine says, nodding.

"I just… Maggie's daughter doesn't come to see her in the home because Maggie got lost in her dreams and ambitions and forgot to be a mom. I don't want us to be that way. I know that our dreams are important to us, but once we have kids, we have to put them first. We can't put ourselves and our selfish dreams ahead of them."

"I absolutely agree. I was actually thinking of being a stay-at-home dad, or maybe working at their school when they're old enough as a music teacher."

Kurt's face melts. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, performing is my life. There is nothing like that feeling of being up on a stage and singing for an audience. But…_kids. _Us being dads, Kurt. That's going to be…_so _much more rewarding than performing is. Our family will always be my top priority."

"We can't miss their first words," Kurt adds, nodding and sitting up. "Or their kindergarten graduation or their first crush. We have to be there for all of it. You'll drive them to their piano lessons and I'll drive them to soccer practice."

"We'll hang every single painting and drawing all around the house—not just on the fridge."

"The whole house will be a showcase for their inevitable overflowing talent. I mean, look at their dads."

They stop and smile at each other. Kurt pulls his feet back so he can crawl over and lay on top of Blaine, giving him a kiss before laying his head on Blaine's chest. He wraps his arms around Blaine's waist and hugs.

Blaine eyes Kurt's butt in his work pants and smirks, slipping his hands into Kurt's back pockets and squeezing. "I know work today was hard, but these pants alone are reason enough for you not to quit."

Kurt laughs, nuzzling his face into Blaine's chest. "Yeah, that and paying the bills."

"But mostly the pants," Blaine says.

"But mostly the pants," Kurt agrees.

… … …

Kurt knows having Blaine around a room full of puppies is a bad idea. Like, a colossally bad idea. Mercedes has been rage texting him about the dog Sam adopted all week and he will _not _stand for a puppy chewing _any _of his designer clothes, no matter how cute it is. And Blaine is a _sucker _for cute things, always has been. He coos over every infant they see, every dog or cat they pass, and _especially _magazine ads that feature both small children and an animal of some kind.

So when Blaine comes up to him holding a dog and pouting, Kurt knows he's in for trouble.

"Kurt, before you say no—"

"No."

"I said _before _you say no! You weren't allowed to say it yet!"

Kurt shakes his head. "There is no way either of us have the time or energy for a dog right now."

"But Kurt, look at how _cute _she is!"

And Kurt can't deny she's cute. She's downright adorable. She has such big, chocolate eyes and a beautiful white coat with little brown spots. Her ears alone are enough to make Kurt's heart warm. But he has to be practical and he has to put his foot down. So, with great effort, he says again, "No."

"Kurt. Come on. This could be like a trial run for a kid!"

"Are you prepared to give up your whole life to take care of this dog? June? NYADA? Performing?"

Blaine's face falls. "No. But I wouldn't have to do all that for a dog!"

"You'd definitely have to pull back on all of that, though. Maybe not school, but definitely June. Blaine, a dog requires a lot of work. You have to walk it every few hours to take it to the bathroom, and feed it, and bathe it, and give it love and affection."

"I can do that!"

"Not with how busy you are! Babe, I love that you're so compassionate, but that dog needs to find a good home with people who actually have time to care for it. Neither of us has that kind of time."

Blaine's eyebrows nit together and his lower lip pushes out as he stares down into the dog's face, scratching behind its ears. "She's so _cute._"

"I know, honey, but you need to give the dog back. Go on. Hand it to someone else."

"You don't want to hold her first?"

"If I hold her, I'm going to get attached, and we'll be taking home a dog we're not prepared for."

"That was my plan," Blaine says sadly. "And you ruined it."

"I'm sorry to be the responsible adult."

"You should be."

Kurt laughs as Blaine walks away, handing the dog over to a kid across the room. His fiancé can be so ridiculous sometimes.

"Blaine want a dog too?" Mercedes asks, coming up to stand beside him.

Kurt nods. "I had to remind him that neither of us has the time or energy for a dog right now. How'd it go with Sam?"

"He agreed to hand McConaughey over to a loving family who has time to care for him."

"What's the damage?"

Mercedes groans. "I don't even wanna talk about it. Jimmy Choos, Kurt. My_one, cherished _pair of Jimmy Choos. Ruined."

Kurt whistles, shaking his head. "I do not envy you. I'm glad I nipped it in the bud before Blaine brought her home."

"You're lucky. I swear to god, our boyfriends are going to be the death of both of us."

"They're so lucky we love them."

Blaine walks back over then, still pouting. Kurt laughs and wraps his arms around him.

"That was really sad. I need a distraction. What were you guys talking about?" Blaine says.

Kurt looks at Mercedes and then back at Blaine. "Nothing. Just how much I love you."

"Not enough to get a dog," Blaine grumbles.

"Yeah, yeah. You'll be over it in an hour."

"Only if we can get cronuts on the way home."

"Fine."

"And if we use my favorite toy tonight."

Mercedes' eyebrows shoot up and she laughs, walking away. "I'm out."

After she's gone, Kurt smirks and lowers his arms to grab at Blaine's waist. "Yeah, like that's such a hardship."

Blaine gives him a serious face. "Well, you deserve it for making me give up the dog."

"Oh, yes. I'm terrible," Kurt says, schooling his face to match Blaine's. "I deserve whatever you're going to do to me tonight."

"Mmhmm. I'm glad you understand."

"I do. I'm so sorry."

"You should be."

"I know."

They both break out into grins, knocking their foreheads together before falling into a kiss.

"Love you," Kurt says. "Even though we can't have a dog."

"Love you too. Even though you won't let us have a dog."

"Oh, you're so good to me. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"The world may never know."


	49. Hold Me

_Summary: Anon prompted "hi there I really liked your 'help me get my feet back on the ground' fic. Anyway, I was intrigued by the line about how Blaine's parents dont encourage emotional expression and how it took Blaine forever to be honest with Kurt about his family. I was wondering if you could write a fic in that verse with Blaine hiding his emotions from Kurt until one day his parents say something insensitive and kurt sees blaine break down for the first time"_

… … …

Dalton was different after Blaine kissed Kurt and they became boyfriends. At least, to Kurt it seemed that way. The halls seemed brighter and the classes seemed more interesting and Warbler rehearsal seemed more fun. Everything just seemed better, and Kurt didn't feel like such an outsider anymore.

He didn't know what it was about the transition from best friends to boyfriends, but it just really felt like cementing the relationship they had, and Kurt loved it. He loved that he had a real anchor here now he could depend on. Not that he couldn't depend on Blaine before, just that he could in a different way now.

And Blaine was so dependable. He was always so strong and stable, and always there the second Kurt needed him. It was actually a little intimidating to be with someone so put together while Kurt sometimes felt like he had to fight not to fall apart.

Blaine just had it easier, Kurt guessed. He'd escaped his bullying and had recovered emotionally from it already, and his parents-from what Kurt could see-were good and stable for him, and he had a very well-maintained social life with the Warblers and other students at Dalton. Blaine really had it together, and Kurt sometimes envied that.

Not too much, though. He was mostly just happy because if Blaine was that well-adjusted after going through something similar to Kurt, then maybe Kurt could get there too. One day. Hopefully soon.

"Hey, you," Blaine said, grinning easily as he came into the juniors common room. "Studying hard?"

Kurt looked up from his textbooks. "Unfortunately."

"What for?"

"World history and chemistry, alternating."

"Yikes."

"I know."

"Well, put it away. They're about to close the cafeteria and I know for a fact you haven't eaten dinner yet," Blaine said, raising his eyebrows and giving Kurt a look.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly as he stood up and put his books away. "You can't know that for a fact."

"Ah, but I do."

"How?"

"It's a secret."

Shaking his head, Kurt slipped the strap of his shoulder bag on and walked over to Blaine. Their hands met in the middle and they laced their fingers together, the act already automatic for them. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet you agreed to be my boyfriend."

"It was an experiment. I may back out at any moment."

"You would not," Blaine laughed. "You like me too much."

"You're right about that."

And god, it was so _freeing _to be able to talk about his feelings for Blaine so openly now, because Blaine felt the same way.

When they made it to dinner, their table of friends catcalled, whistling and clapping like they did every time Kurt and Blaine entered a room together. It had been a couple months and they were _still _carrying on with that. Truthfully, it got on Kurt's nerves a bit, but Blaine usually grinned at them so he figured Blaine liked it and let it go.

After they finished, Blaine grabbed both of their empty trays and headed for the conveyor belt they went on.

"Thanks." Kurt smiled at him.

Blaine flashed a smile back. "Of course. You want to go to my room and...practice?"

Kurt got the implication and smirked, but his face fell when he remembered all of his homework. "I wish I could, but I have a lot I need to get done tonight. Raincheck?"

"Sure," Blaine said. He leaned in and kissed Kurt's cheek, and then Kurt grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips. "You're adorable."

"I just like kissing my boyfriend," Kurt said. "Sue me."

"Not a chance. I happen to like kissing _my _boyfriend." Blaine leaned in for another kiss, grinning. "Go get work done."

"Yes, sir."

It was going to be a long night, Kurt was sure of it. When he got back to his room, he set up camp on his bed, opening all of his textbooks and spreading them out, then opening his notebooks so he could compare his notes from class to the text. His roommate came in at some point, but upon seeing Kurt at his bed, decided to grab his laptop and go. Kurt had never been so grateful.

And then, because of how focused he was, Kurt actually finished his work early. It was only half past nine, and he knew Blaine would still be awake, and since there was still a half-hour until dorm checks, Kurt decided that was a half-hour that could be well-spent by kissing his boyfriend. So he closed all his books and headed down the hall to Blaine's room.

He knocked on the door twice and waited for Blaine to answer, but he didn't. Usually Blaine opened the door right away, beaming, and invited Kurt in before Kurt even had a chance to ask. Maybe Blaine had gone out, but it seemed unlikely at this hour, so Kurt knocked again, three times in quick succession.

The door opened a crack, and Blaine stuck his face in the door. It was the first time Blaine had ever looked anything less than perfect. His hair was disheveled and his eyes looked red, but even still there was a smile plastered on his face. For the first time Kurt could tell that it was fake.

"Hey, um, did you get finished studying early?"

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

Blaine's mouth twitched, but stayed wide and smiling. "I'm fine! I'm just-now's not really a good time, because you actually inspired me to get a head start on my term paper for English, and I'm in a good groove, so..."

"Right, I'm sorry," Kurt said, stepping back. "It's almost dorm check anyway."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow though? At breakfast?"

"Definitely," Kurt said. He stepped closer to the door to give Blaine a kiss, but the door was slammed in his face.

Huh. That was weird.

Whatever had just happened left Kurt with an uneasy feeling. Blaine appeared so...messy. Kurt didn't know how to put a finger on it, but there was something off about him. The way he didn't open the door all the way, the way he smiled, the way his voice sounded, the way he brushed Kurt off. None of that had happened before, and okay, maybe they hadn't known each other that long, but still. It was weird to Kurt.

That moment nagged at his mind as he walked back to his room, and as he got ready for bed, and as he lay in bed waiting to fall asleep. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. So why didn't Blaine say something? Kurt always opened up to Blaine, always came to him with his problems, so why wasn't Blaine doing the same?

Except the next morning, Blaine seemed perfectly fine.

When Kurt opened his door to go to breakfast, Blaine was standing there with a cup of coffee, smiling easily and waiting for him. "Hey."

"Have you been waiting long?" Kurt asked, taking the coffee.

"Not really. I woke up before my alarm so I had a little extra time."

Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything. He didn't know _what _to say. Could he bring up the previous night? Should he? With the way Blaine was acting now, it felt like maybe Kurt had dreamt it.

"I'm sorry about last night," Blaine said, and okay, at least it was real and Kurt wasn't hallucinating. "I was just really into that paper, you know? Wrote six pages last night."

"Yeah, no, it's okay. We can hang out tonight, right?"

"You don't have any work to do?"

"It can wait."

"Okay." Blaine smiled. "Sounds good."

Classes passed quickly. At lunch, Blaine seemed as effervescent as ever. His smile was bright and he spoke animatedly with all of their friends. He even kissed Kurt so many times when they were parting that Kurt lost count.

But then later in the day after classes, Blaine wasn't at dinner. Kurt checked his phone to see if maybe Blaine had texted him and told him why, but his phone was blank. So, naturally, he went to Blaine's room.

He knocked four different times. No answer.

Kurt was seriously worried as he walked back to his room. He called Blaine's phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Okay, now Kurt was _really _worried. He texted all of Blaine's closest friends, but none of them had seen him since class.

This was so unlike Blaine. Kurt paced in his room for a good ten minutes, sending texts to Blaine and calling him a couple more times. Okay, maybe it was excessive, and maybe Kurt was overreacting, but this was just...so unlike anything he'd seen before from Blaine. Blaine _always _told him when he'd be absent from places they went together, and there was no way Blaine would miss dinner and not at least send Kurt a text, especially when they had plans to hang out tonight.

There was nothing he could do, though. Blaine wasn't responding to any attempt at communication, and until he did, all Kurt could do was wait. So he sat on his bed and got on his laptop, opening his favorite fashion blogs to pass the time. But passing the time turned into staring at the screen for hours until Kurt had to go to sleep. It was nearing midnight, so he reluctantly closed his laptop and got ready for bed.

Whatever had happened, if Blaine didn't contact him by morning, Kurt would alert the headmaster and maybe call the police. Drastic? Maybe. But something was _wrong _and Kurt just knew it.

Kurt was woken up in the middle of the night by a persistent knocking at his door.

"Kurt?... I know you're probably sleeping, but _please _wake up... I need you..."

_Blaine._

Kurt threw the covers off, sparing a quick glance at his alarm clock that told him it was well past two in the morning, and opened his door.

Blaine stood there, eyes rimmed red and puffy and overflowing with tears. His hair was a _mess_, his dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned a little, and his tie hung loose around his neck. He looked terrible.

"Oh my god, what happened? I've been trying to get in touch with you all day," Kurt said, pulling Blaine in and shutting the door. He turned a small lamp on for a little light. Thankfully his roommate slept like the dead.

Blaine sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Um-it's a lot. Just-a lot of things happened. I just-can I stay the night with you? I really can't be alone right now."

"Of course, yeah," Kurt said, nodding. He rubbed Blaine's arms and tried to catch his eyes. "Blaine, you're scaring me."

"I'll be fine. I just need you."

Kurt nodded again. "Okay. Alright, yeah. I'll get you some pajamas." He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a top, holding them out to Blaine.

"Thanks."

Blaine started stripping right there. Kurt blushed and looked away, giving Blaine enough time to change. Once he had, Blaine set his clothes on top of Kurt's dresser and headed straight for the bed, climbing in. Kurt had no idea how they were both going to fit on his twin bed for the night. This was something they'd never done before, and it felt too intimate for where they were in their relationship.

But Blaine needed him, and Kurt had to be there. So he crawled in behind Blaine and threw a tentative arm around Blaine's waist; he responded immediately, relaxing back against Kurt's body fully and laying his arm over Kurt's, threading their fingers together.

They'd never done this. Never cuddled so closely, never laid under the covers together and drifted off to sleep, but it felt so nice and Kurt felt so relieved after the day he'd had worrying, that he fell back asleep almost right away, comforted by Blaine laying safely in his arms.

In the morning, Kurt woke up on his back, Blaine sprawled half across his chest, snoring. Kurt didn't want to wake him, and after checking the clock Kurt realized they were both already an hour late, so he just let Blaine sleep. They'd take the day off. It was a Friday, anyway.

A half hour later, Blaine stirred, wiping his eyes and pushing his head up, blinking blearily. "Kurt?"

Kurt smiled, rubbing a hand on Blaine's back. "Hey."

"I..." Blaine trailed off, then his eyes widened. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Kurt frowned.

"I can't believe I came here last night. I was a total mess. I should have just gone back to my room." Blaine started pushing up more to get out of bed, but Kurt pulled him back down.

"Hey, what's wrong? It's okay that you came here. I'm your boyfriend. I'm always here for you when you need me."

Blaine shook his head and slipped out of bed, looking around the room. "I'm sorry."

"Blaine, wait." Kurt got out of bed too, walking over to him. "What's wrong? You wouldn't tell me last night. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You should, though, I think. You were really upset. More so than I've ever seen you."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and _talk to me._"

Blaine looked down at the ground, kicking at the carpet. He didn't speak for a long time, but he looked like he was building up the courage, so Kurt stayed quiet and waited. He stood with a breathing distance from Blaine so he wouldn't suffocate him.

Finally, after so long Kurt wondered if Blaine had fallen back asleep standing up, Blaine spoke. "I had a big fight with my parents."

When he didn't elaborate, Kurt raised his eyebrows. "What about?"

Another long pause. Then, finally, "You."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"What about me?"

Blaine kept kicking at the ground, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "My parents surprised me with a visit a couple weeks ago. When they came to my room, they saw the picture I have of you and me kissing on my bedside table. They yelled and left and I hadn't talked to them since. Until yesterday. They called and invited me home for dinner, and I thought maybe they were going to apologize, but they didn't. When I got there, I realized it was an intervention. They'd called up my old best friend from Westerville High, from before I came out, and a pastor. They were there to try to convince me to go to straight camp."

Kurt's stomach flopped. "I..." He didn't know what to say. Blaine's family had always seemed so nice, so polite, so supportive. None of this made any sense in Kurt's imagined picture of Blaine's life. "Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"They tried to make me break up with you. They said you were poisoning me. I tried to explain that that's not true at all. That I've never felt as sure of anything in my life as I am that I want to be with you. That I... That I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love with you. But they wouldn't hear anything I had to say. They told me I was sick-that I have a _disease. _That God hates me."

Religion had never been important much to Kurt-in fact, he hated the whole idea. But he knew that Blaine loved God and went to church every Sunday. He respected that, because it was part of who Blaine was, even though he didn't agree. So Kurt knew how much it must have hurt to have his parents say that to him.

"Blaine..."

"I've never felt so...so low, so _hated _in my life," Blaine said. His voice broke and it was like the dam just shattered. Blaine went from dry-eyed to full-on sobbing in seconds. "Not even when I was _physically beaten _for being gay. And I...I just don't know what to _do._"

And then Blaine just collapsed into Kurt's arms. He held on tight, crying into Kurt's pajama shirt. Tentatively, Kurt wrapped his arms around him and hugged him back, because he didn't know what else to do. He'd never seen Blaine cry at all, much less totally break down like this. It was so unnerving that he wasn't sure how to make Blaine feel better.

"What can I do for you? Tell me how I can help," Kurt said, nearly pleading.

Blaine pulled back just enough to look in Kurt's eyes and said, "Just hold me."

So Kurt did. He pulled Blaine back in and held on tight, rubbing his back and whispering words of comfort in his ear. After a few minutes, Kurt took a few steps backward towards the bed, bringing Blaine with him. Blaine followed, so Kurt took that as a sign that he was okay with it and led them to the bed, lying back down.

Blaine wrapped himself bodily around Kurt-arms and legs, so Kurt curled into it as best he could, trying to give Blaine some sort of comfort in this _awful _situation.

After a while, Blaine's crying lessened. His breathing evened out and he started snoring. Kurt lay awake during Blaine's nap, alternating between staring down at Blaine's face and looking at the ceiling, cursing that _stupid _God everyone loved so much for giving people such rotten lots in life.

Because Blaine didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. He was a good person. He was so bright, always smiling and doing his best to help others. Blaine had a reputation at Dalton for being the kindest person around.

So how could anyone be so _cruel_?

Blaine woke up only an hour later, rubbing his eyes the same way he had when they first woke up.

This time, when he looked at Kurt, he didn't apologize.

"Thank you," Blaine told him. "I... I've never had someone to come to before."

Kurt smiled small. "You do now, though. You have me. You know that, right?"

"I do now."

Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead. "I'm sorry about your family. I had no idea it was like that."

"I know. That's kind of the point. I'm the best actor at this school but know one would know it because _I'm the best actor at this school. _Half the time I don't even feel like a real person. I put on this show for people because I don't want them to know how shitty my life really is."

Blaine never cursed and Kurt had to resist the urge to raise his eyebrows. Instead, he pouted, trying to show his sympathy. "I am so sorry, Blaine. You know you don't have to be fake around me, right? I understand why you'd want to put on a show for others, but you don't have to do that around me. I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you," Blaine repeated, smiling. He reached up a hand and touched Kurt's cheek. "I meant it, you know. When I said I'm falling in love with you."

Kurt's stomach swooped and he felt warm. "I'm fairly certain I fell in love with you by the second chorus of 'Teenage Dream.'"

Blaine kissed him on the mouth, smiling into it, then pulled away. "Give me a little time to catch up, then."

"Of course."

And Kurt would, definitely. Because his heart stopped when he looked at Blaine and with just one touch, Kurt believed this was real. He took a chance and he'd never look back. This new step-Blaine showing him who he really was and what his life was really like-felt like a huge step for them. The first time Blaine had ever opened up to anyone, and it was with Kurt.

They definitely had something special. And Kurt would fight anyone who said otherwise.


	50. Moving On

_Summary: Anon prompted "Could you write something about everyone being worried about Blaine after the Klaine breakup in S4? Maybe Blaine stops talking as much in class, looses the hair gel, starts failing his tests?"_

… … …

_Sam:_

He knows that he's not the smartest guy around. He'd accepted it about himself a long time ago. Dyslexia had made it difficult for him to read or remember things and so everyone wrote him off as stupid. It usually rolled off his back, honestly. Didn't even phase him anymore.

Because he knew it wasn't true. And he knew that there were times that he was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. Like now, with Blaine.

Sam wasn't that close with Blaine before, but he could feel that they were starting to forge a friendship, and it was good. You could never have enough bros, at least that was Sam's motto. But after Blaine and Kurt broke up, something shifted, and Sam could tell. It was small, at first. A wavering in Blaine's smile or a dullness in his eyes.

Maybe Sam wasn't very good at reading words, but sometimes, he could be good at reading people. Sometimes.

"You okay, dude?" Sam asked, nudging Blaine in social studies.

Blaine startled, wide-eyed and scared. Then, in a split second, he was smiling. "Yeah, sorry. Just spaced out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

The teacher started passing tests back, and when she got to Sam and Blaine's desk, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips turned down. She placed Blaine's test on his desk and a glaring red D- stared up at them.

Blaine bit his lip, but otherwise didn't show any indication that he was upset.

Their teacher placed her hand on the desk and said quietly, "I'd like to speak with you after class, Blaine."

Blaine smiled up at her and nodded. "Of course."

She frowned further and moved on to the desk behind them.

"Dude, that's so unlike you. You're, like, a straight-A student."

Blaine shrugged. "I guess I just didn't study enough. I'll make up for it."

And that was _so _unlike Blaine, because Sam had been in the choir room when Blaine came in red-faced and ranting to Kurt about a teacher who gave him a B on an assignment. Now he was getting a C and didn't care?

No. There was definitely something wrong.

… … …

_Artie:_

When they chose to do _Grease _for the school musical, Artie immediately began putting together his dream cast in his head. Blaine, of course, would be Danny. Who else? He already had the look and his voice was perfect. Playing a badboy would be a stretch for him, maybe, but Artie knew Blaine had it in him.

Until Blaine dissolved into tears onstage during his audition.

"I can't. I'm sorry, I just can't."

Artie had never, ever, _ever _seen Blaine fall apart like that, and he'd definitely never heard Blaine sound like that before. The way his voice broke—it broke something in Artie. More than anything, Artie wanted to create his perfect show, but not at the expense of his friend. Not when Blaine was hurting so badly. So he didn't push Danny, but he did offer Blaine another role. Maybe being in the play would help get his mind off things.

But that just seemed to make Blaine even more upset and he ran off the stage, covering his mouth like he was struggling to hold it together.

And that was when Artie knew that there was definitely something wrong with Blaine.

… … …

_Marley:_

Despite what had been going on lately, Marley felt pretty good after their opening night of _Grease. _She nailed all her songs and scenes and the audience gave her a standing ovation during curtain call. And her mom just looked so _proud _after the show, bringing her flowers and beaming. Marley loved making her mom look like that.

She walked down the hall towards the parking lot to meet her mom, holding her flowers and grinning to herself, when she heard it. Sobs, sounding like they were coming from the girl's bathroom. She stopped and pushed the door open, stepping in.

"Hello?"

Whoever was crying choked off and stopped immediately. "I'm fine."

"Blaine?"

He came out of the stall, face blotchy but dry, oddly enough. He smiled at her and it sent chills down her spine. "I'm okay. Sorry. My, uh—my grandma just died. We were kind of close."

They both knew he was lying, but Marley didn't say anything. He headed to the mirror and wiped at his face again before heading for the door to leave.

She touched his shoulder to stop him on his way out and said, "It's okay to miss Kurt, Blaine. It's okay to be sad. I know I don't know you that well, and Kurt even less, but… It seems like you two had something special. You're allowed to cry."

Blaine avoided eye contact, chin quivering. He looked on the verge of breaking again, and Marley immediately wanted to take it back, because whatever she said seemed to just make things worse.

He pushed past her and left the room. Marley glanced down at her flowers, then at the door. Maybe she didn't know Blaine very well, but she could tell something was seriously wrong with him.

… … …

_Brittany:_

Glee club wasn't the same without Santana, but Brittany was adjusting. Sometimes she'd lean her head over to lay it on Santana's shoulder and fall into the chair next to her, but it was fine. She only did that a few times a week now.

It was even weirder with all the new kids, and Brittany thought she just about had them all down, when another one came in.

Everyone around her gasped, so she knew that whoever it was definitely had to be new. She leaned over to Tina and whispered, "Who is that guy?"

Tina smacked her leg and said, "That's Blaine! Be nice!"

Brittany frowned. That wasn't her Blaine Warbler. Blaine Warbler's hair was a flat, heavy gel-helmet. This guy's hair was super curly and stuck out everywhere. Plus, Blaine Warbler always wore clothes that reminded Brittany of her grandpa, and this guy was wearing regular jeans and a sweatshirt. Definitely not Blaine Warbler.

After glee practice ended, Brittany decided to go introduce herself. She stuck her hand out to him and smiled. "I'm Brittany."

The guy looked down at her hand then back up at her. "Brittany, I know who you are."

"How?"

"Britt, it's me. It's Blaine."

Brittany frowned. She patted this guy's hair down, smoothing it flat against his head, and squinted to make her eyes go out of focus. And there he was! Her Blaine Warbler!

"Blaine!" She let go of his hair and focused her eyes again, pouting at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't look like you."

"I woke up late."

Brittany tilted her head. "No, it's something else, too. There's something different about you. Your eyes don't shine anymore."

Blaine smiled at her, and she could tell he was trying his best, but it just wasn't the same.

"I'm fine, Britt. I promise."

He grabbed his bag and left. Brittany shook her head as she watched him leave. "Blaine Warbler is a liar," she said to herself. There was definitely something wrong with him, and Brittany knew just who to call.

… … …

_Santana:_

She'd never admit it, but Santana loved those glee dorks. All of them. Well, all of the ones she was in with. The newbies not so much, but they were pre-pubescent dweebs and she didn't have time for infants. The others, though, she loved. And, despite Kurt's ranting about Blaine when they went to dinner with Mercedes and Rachel for _Grease_, Santana knew Blaine wasn't a bad person.

So when Brittany called her to tell her about Blaine not being himself, Santana worried. Not that she would ever tell anyone that she worried for her friends, but she did. And she was worried about Blaine.

After cheerleading practice, she went back to her dorm and dialed Kurt's number.

_"Hello?"_

"I just got an interesting call from Brittany," Santana said, jumping right in.

Kurt sighed on the other end of the line. _"I know we're sort of friends now, but it's really unnecessary to call me and tell me you had phone sex with your ex-girlfriend."_

"It was about Blaine."

Kurt paused. _"You had phone sex about Blaine…"_

"Drop the phone sex, perv, it was a normal conversation and it was about Blaine."

_"What about him, Santana?" _Kurt snapped.

"He's not doing well. He's really messed up right now, Kurt."

_"Well, if he is, it's his own fault. He shouldn't have slept with someone else."_

"Don't pretend like you don't care. I know you do. You've loved him for years and he's your best friend and he's hurting."

There was a very long couple minutes of silence, and Santana could swear she heard Kurt sniffle. She gave him the time he needed, and after a while, he said, _"Okay. What's wrong with him?"_

"Apparently he's failing classes, dressing like a hobo, not gelling his hair, and Brittany says she hasn't heard him sing since _Grease._"

_"That was over a month ago."_

"I know. She says his eyes don't shine anymore, either. She says he tried to smile, but she could tell it wasn't real. Look, I know he broke your heart and you two broke up, but if Blaine has lost all ability to care about anything, I think someone needs to intervene. And I think that someone has to be you."

_"Okay," _Kurt said. He took a deep breath. _"Thanks, Santana."_

"Don't mention it. Seriously."

Santana hung up before Kurt had a chance to say something sentimental.

… … …

_Kurt:_

He paced around the living room, weighing the pros and cons. Pros: if he called Blaine, maybe it would do them both some good. It could give them both the closure they needed. Cons: it could just mess them up even further. Ruin the progress they'd both made.

Then again, if Blaine was as bad as Santana said, he hadn't made any progress at all.

Deep down, Kurt knew Santana was right. Beneath the hurt and the anger and the betrayal, he still loved Blaine. Would always love him. Blaine was still his best friend, and if he was really hurting this bad, Kurt knew he couldn't just ignore it. He had to at least try to help.

So he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop and logged onto Skype, sighing in relief when he noted Blaine was online. He hovered the mouse over the call button, hesitating, then closed his eyes and clicked.

The calling jingle sounded, and after a long minute, Blaine answered.

As soon as his picture appeared on the screen, Kurt knew this was the right decision. Blaine looked terrible. Even through the grainy imagery Kurt could see the deep bags under Blaine's eyes. His hair was wild and frizzy on his head and he was wearing his old Dalton sweatshirt.

"Kurt? I think you may have called me on accident."

"No, I called you on purpose," Kurt said.

Blaine's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"I've been hearing that you haven't been doing well," Kurt said. "I just wanted to check up on you."

"Oh." Blaine frowned. "I'm fine."

"Blaine, your hair isn't gelled."

"I ran out. My mom's at the store buying me more right now."

"Your mom probably isn't even home right now."

Blaine hesitated. "No. She's not."

"Will you be honest with me? Please? How are you doing?"

Blaine shrugged and looked away. "I'm about as good as you are, probably. I screwed up, Kurt. On a…massive level. And I just… I don't know how to fix it."

"You can't," Kurt told him honestly. "You can't fix cheating on me, Blaine. It happened. You can't take it back and you can't make it better by texting me apologies or singing a song." Blaine nodded and bit his lip; Kurt could see him starting to cry. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't move on from it, Blaine. It's okay to be sad. God knows I've been crying into gallons of ice cream for the past month. But I don't want you to wallow in it. You don't have to torture yourself with it."

"Don't I, though?" Blaine asked, looking up at him through the screen. "I deserve to feel this. I deserve to feel like I'm dying every day. I ruined us. I broke the one real, good thing I've ever had. I—I _hurt you_, and I will never forgive myself for that."

Kurt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You have to try, Blaine. I may not be there yet, but you need to give yourself a break. You made a mistake. I know that. I am still…_so _angry at you, and so hurt, but I don't want this for you. Beneath all of this—this _shit_, you're still my best friend. I don't want this for you. It's okay if you're sad and you cry and you don't feel up to dressing like usual, but you have to make an effort. You can't let this destroy you."

"I can't help it," Blaine said. He wiped at his eyes, voice breaking. "I hate this. I hate that I did this to you, and I hate myself for doing it."

"Please don't hate yourself. I don't hate you."

Blaine blinked, sniffling. "You don't?"

"No. I don't hate you."

Kurt waited while Blaine cried, wiping his nose and eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve. Kurt tried to hold his tears back, because one of them had to be strong.

"Um, do you think…" Blaine trailed off, looking away and biting his lip before glancing back up. "Do you think we can move past this? You and me? Do you think…maybe, someday, we can be better?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "As friends, yes. I think, after enough time has passed, we'll be able to move past this. I think we can be friends again, someday. But as a couple? I honestly don't know, Blaine. I just don't know. Not right now."

Blaine nodded, forcing a smile. "Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

"Right," Kurt said. He paused. "We're gonna be okay, Blaine. But that can't happen until we're both okay as individuals. So you have to focus on yourself right now, okay?"

"Okay. I can do that," Blaine said.

"Good."

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For calling. It, uh, means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Blaine. Now go study. I hear you're failing some of your classes. Do your parents know?"

"No."

"Good. Get your grades back up before they find out, okay?"

Blaine nodded. "That's probably a good idea… Kurt, I really am _so _sorry—"

"I know." Kurt's face softened. "I know. Go study, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine said.

Blaine disconnected the call. Kurt sat on his desk chair, staring at the Skype screen. His messaging conversations with Blaine were still there, laced with 'I love you's and happy emoticons and petnames. Kurt closed the window and then closed his laptop.

He really needed ice cream.

He ventured into the living room and grabbed a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV. There was a marathon of _Hoarders _on Lifetime and Kurt couldn't resist, even if it reminded him of Blaine.

Santana was right. There was something wrong with Blaine. But after their call, Kurt knew Blaine would be okay. They both would. They just needed time to move on.

He stabbed his spoon into the tub of ice cream and took a big bite, watching a woman get rid of all the garbage in her house, cleaning it out and starting new.


	51. Head's Underwater But I'm Breathing Fine

_Summary: Part 8 of Bulimic!Blaine verse, or as it will now be known, Recourse. Blaine's parents come to visit him in the hospital before he gets moved to the psychiatric floor and Kurt does his best to keep it together._

_I will now be using the tag "fic: recourse" on tumblr for this ongoing series. (My Tumblr is cakerbee if you didn't get that yet).__ Two anon prompts went into this installment and are listed on the tumblr post._

_Previous parts for Recourse can be found listed under the last installment, And I Will Try to Fix You._

… … …

Kurt loved the daytime. He was a morning person, through and through. He liked to get up early-not _too _early-and get things done. By noon it felt like he'd already accomplished so much that he was in a fantastic mood for the rest of the day. He enjoyed the light and the sun and the warmth. The soft blue of the sky and the bird chirping. Of course, he'd lost the birds when he moved to New York. It was more of pigeons squawking and car horns blaring and bus engines roaring. Still, it was comforting nonetheless. It meant things were _happening. _Life was going on around him and he felt comforted by the activity. It helped motivate him.

He was surprised to find out that Blaine was the opposite. He never pegged Blaine for being a night owl, but he truly was. Blaine enjoyed the darkness and the quiet. The inactivity and the solitude. He stayed up far too late to be healthy, but that was how he got his best work done. Blaine didn't start his homework until ten o'clock at night, usually. It was just one of his quirks. Kurt didn't understand it at first, and so naturally he asked.

"How do you get any work done when it's so dark and _quiet_? It seems so...depressing," Kurt asked.

This was before.

Before the bullying and before the throwing up and before the cutting and before the ledge and before the downward spiral. Before the therapy and before the pills and before the suicide attempt. Before life for them had changed irrevocably.

"The solitude is reassuring," Blaine explained. "There are no distractions. I don't have to have my senses constantly barraged with sights and sounds. My brain likes the quiet, it likes the darkness. It's reassuring. It helps me focus."

"Doesn't it just make you feel like nothing is happening? Like the world has stopped?"

"Exactly. That's what I like about it. I'm the only one left. It's just me and my work and nothing else. Even when it feels like the world has stopped, I know that I'm still going. Even if everything around me comes to a halt I can always keep going."

But that was before.

Now everything had changed. Now Blaine fell asleep every night around nine and Kurt stayed up until three in the morning just watching him sleep. Their dynamic had shifted. Blaine slept too much and Kurt didn't sleep at all. He left the hospital around six every morning, slipping out with a kiss to Blaine's forehead before he woke up, and headed back to the loft to get ready for classes. He had a couple hours in between his morning and afternoon classes so he used that time to nap. Then, when he was done with classes, he went straight back to the hospital and sat vigil at Blaine's bedside. Whenever Blaine fell asleep, he'd pull out his homework, alternating between getting real work done and watching Blaine sleep to make sure he wasn't going anywhere.

This was one of those nights. Blaine had dozed off some time ago; Kurt was trying to memorize lines for a monologue when a soft knock fell on the door.

"Hey," Santana said, stepping into the room.

Kurt looked up. "Hey."

"He already out?"

"Yeah. He dozed off about a half-hour ago."

Santana nodded and crossed to sit at the chair on Blaine's right side. "How much longer does he stay here before they move him upstairs?"

"Not sure. A few more days maybe."

"Blaine's gonna freak when they remove those bandages from his head for good and he has a whole patch of hair missing."

Kurt's eyes flicked over Blaine's body, focusing on his head. "Yeah, maybe. He might be more focused on his arm and leg, though. He's really scared he won't be able to make a full recovery on those."

"Are you?"

"Of course," Kurt said, meeting her eyes across the hospital bed. "But I can't let him know that. I have to be the optimistic one. I need to keep his spirits up. He can't get discouraged, not now, not after all this. He needs reassurance that everything is going to be okay."

"He's lucky to have you," Santana muttered. She looked away, glancing over Blaine's body.

There was a sadness in her eyes that struck Kurt. "He's lucky to have you too, you know. If it weren't for you, this probably would've happened a lot sooner. And it would've taken me a lot longer to clue in."

"That's not true," she said, looking back up at him. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You've done a lot for him that I couldn't possibly do."

"Is that a sex joke?"

"Yes and no," Santana said, shrugging, face neutral.

Kurt tilted his head, studying her face. He recognized a lot of the emotions there. Sadness, remorse, guilt. All emotions that he saw in his own eyes when he looked into a mirror. Despite what they kept telling themselves, they both felt responsible. For everything, really.

"What time are his parents supposed to get in?" Santana asked after a moment.

Kurt checked the clock on the wall. "In about an hour or so."

"Is Blaine's brother coming with them?"

"Yeah, they're all coming together."

"Huh. You think we should wake him up? Warn him?"

"He knows they're coming. Though, letting him have time to prepare wouldn't be so bad."

Santana leaned forward and placed her hand on Blaine's. "Blaine? Hey, Blaine?" Blaine stirred a little but didn't fully wake. "Blaine, come on. Wake up. I know you're tired but you sleep too much."

"The doctors say I'm s'posed to sleep a lot," Blaine muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and tugging the blanket closer around him. "Resting is good. Helps me recover."

"Your parents and Cooper are going to be here in an hour," Kurt said gently.

Blaine blinked his eyes open, frowning. "Oh. What time is it?"

"It's nearing ten o'clock."

"Oh."

"We just thought you'd appreciate having time to wake up and prepare. So they don't ambush you when you get here," Kurt explained.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, that's, uh...that's a good idea. Thanks."

"Have you thought about what you're going to tell them?" Santana asked.

"No. Not really."

"Are you going to tell them the truth? About everything?" she pressed.

He shrugged. "I guess I have to. They're gonna know I'm being moved to the psych floor soon. They'll want to know why, if I just got hit by a car."

"Right."

"You don't have to give them any details you don't want to, though," Kurt reminded him. "Only share what you feel comfortable sharing. Don't push yourself too hard."

"I'm okay, Kurt."

"I know. I don't want to lose that. I want you to stay okay."

Blaine smiled sadly. "No one can be okay all the time."

"Well you've been not okay for quite a while, B," Santana said softly, squeezing her hand over his. "I think it's time you were okay and stayed that way, at least for a good while."

"I'm doing my best."

"We know, honey," Kurt said. He stood up and sat on the side of Blaine's bed, placing a hand on Blaine's chest. "You've been doing really well here."

"We just want you to keep doing well," Santana added.

Blaine nodded and took a deep breath. "I know. So do I."

They all knew the significance of that statement and let it hang in the air for a while, soaking it in. For so long Blaine had refused help, insisting that he didn't deserve it or saying that he didn't want to be saved and he was broken beyond repair. Now, Blaine was readily accepting help. He _wanted _to get better. Kurt hadn't felt so relieved in a very long time.

"Well, do you want to do something while we wait? We can read a tabloid together," Kurt suggested.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Boring. You two are the most boring couple."

Blaine huffed and said, "We're not boring."

Kurt didn't care enough to argue. He was just so glad they were getting to a place of semi-normalcy. Blaine was in a hospital bed and might have permanent damage to the right side of his body because he intentionally threw himself into oncoming traffic, but at least the teasing had started up again. It meant that as a family, they were getting back to normal.

Or trying to. The effort was enough for Kurt, though.

"What, are you not gonna argue too, Hummel?" Santana asked.

Kurt gave her his best bitch glare. "You're not worth arguing with, Santana. Your IQ isn't high enough."

"That would be insulting if I hadn't graduated higher rank than you."

"How do you know my rank?"

"Please. Have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

"I tried to."

"Alright, guys," Blaine said, holding his hands up and intervening. He had the ghost of a smile playing across his face. "Enough cat fighting."

"Yeah right. If we were cat fighting Santana's extensions would be gone by now," Kurt said.

Santana simply rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in response.

They all knew, though. Kurt knew that they all knew that it was a game. It was a way for them to feel normal in this completely foreign situation. It was a beacon of comfort in this black hole of a situation.

Blaine had been in the hospital for about two weeks. Half of that he spent in a coma and the other half he spent sleeping most of the day away anyway. The doctors said it was normal, that Blaine's body had taken a huge hit and it needed that rest to recover, but it didn't help ease Kurt's worry. None of it did. Not the bandages or casts or the extended stay or the fact that he'd be transferred to psych soon or that it looked like his leg wouldn't fully recover. It was all terrifying and even though these fleeting moments of normalcy happened, Kurt was not comforted.

He was terrified and on edge and barely holding it together.

They decided to play Scrabble until Blaine's family arrived. Kurt had brought it from home since it was their favorite date-night-in game to play. Well, aside from Twister of course, but they couldn't play that with the giant plaster casts engulfing half of Blaine's body. Scrabble was manageable, though, and Blaine was a master with words because he read so much.

God, Kurt thought he'd never stop reading long enough to even kiss when they'd first started dating at Dalton. Blaine almost always had a book stowed somewhere on his person wherever he went.

Blaine was on the verge of winning-he had almost a full 100 point lead on both Kurt and Santana-when a knock sounded on the door and one of the regular nurses, Eve, stepped in.

"Hey, honey, your family's here," Eve said. Her eyes flicked over Kurt and Santana (who were there way past visiting hours) and smiled. "Your other family."

Blaine's parents and Cooper stepped into the room, and then it was a flurry of activity.

Kurt's chair was physically pushed across the floor with him still in it as Mr. and Mrs. Anderson flew over to the bed, Cooper right behind him. There were so many initial freak-out phrases, and amidst the chaos Kurt picked up things like "I'm so glad you're okay!" and "We will sue whoever did this to you," and "Thank god your face isn't marred or your career would be ruined for sure." Through it all, Blaine looked overwhelmed, like he didn't know what to say. Because he was legally an adult, the medical staff had to comply when he said he didn't want them telling his family the full story. That he only wanted them to say he'd been hit by a car.

But they knew he was being transferred to psych, and Kurt could tell by the snippets of conversation that they thought it was because the hospital assumed Blaine had been traumatized from being hit by a car. Kurt wanted to step in and help Blaine explain the situation because it was so obvious that he was overwhelmed, but he knew he shouldn't. This was Blaine's family and it was Blaine's story to tell and Kurt couldn't get in the way of that.

"Um, guys, I know this is scary, but I need all of you to try and calm down, okay? I have to tell you something," Blaine said.

The Andersons paused in their fussing.

Cooper asked, "What is it, Squirt?"

"Is it about the accident?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Yeah, it's about everything," Blaine said.

"Go ahead, son," Mr. Anderson said.

Blaine nodded and took a deep breath. Santana had crossed the room to join Kurt. She tapped on his shoulder and nodded at the wall, so Kurt got up from the chair and joined her in standing against the wall, being silent observers in case Blaine needed them.

"I, um... Things haven't been easy for me here. As easy as I thought they would be. A lot of kids at school didn't like me-"

"Is this like the bullying in high school, Blaine? Because we can call the lawyers again-"

"Please don't, Mom. Just listen, okay? So, the other people at school have been kind of hard on me, and I...I didn't handle it the best way. I had...gained a little weight, since coming here, and they all noticed. They teased me for it and I let it get to me and I-I developed...less than ideal coping mechanisms."

"So what does that mean?" Cooper asked.

"It means I started making myself throw up, to try and lose weight. It worked but not as well as I wanted, so sometimes I'd skip a meal, too. But it got to the point where I tried not to eat at all, and when I did I immediately threw it back up."

His parents gasped, of course, and his dad said, "Blaine, why didn't you tell us about this?"

"Because I was ashamed," Blaine answered, voice cracking. Kurt's heart broke when he saw the tears forming in Blaine's eyes but he knew he couldn't do anything. This was something Blaine had to do for himself. It was his story. "But I-I felt so bad, and I didn't know how to feel good again. After a while I didn't know how to feel _anything. _So I-I started...hurting myself. In other ways. I'd intentionally cut myself because I thought that if I could see myself bleed, I'd know I was alive."

The room was charged with negative, tense energy. Kurt heard Blaine's parents sniffing even if he couldn't see their faces and he ached to help the situation.

"It got really bad. People tried to help me but I pushed them away because I didn't want help. I didn't realize I was depressed until someone actually spelled it out for me. And then we got help, I got a therapist and went on medication, but it didn't do anything for me. If anything I felt worse. And... Mom, Dad, Cooper, you have to believe me, I don't remember this. I still don't and it will bother me for the rest of my life, but... At some point, I decided enough was enough. And I was taking a walk to clear my head and instead of waiting at a crosswalk, I stepped intentionally in front of a car. This wasn't an accident. I wanted to be hit."

Every Anderson in the room was crying then, and Kurt had to grab Santana's hand and physically restrain himself from going over there and curling Blaine up in his lap and whisper reassurances in his ear. But he couldn't, because this was Blaine's family, and he needed to let them have their moment.

"Honey, why didn't you tell us?" his mom asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

Blaine sniffled. "I didn't want you to know! It's been the hardest year of my life and I didn't want you guys to know how weak I was. You...you fought so hard for me to be better after Sadie Hawkins. You sent me to Dalton and made sure I was good. And I didn't want you to know that after two seconds of being bullied again I cracked."

"This does not make you weak, Blaine," his dad said. "You are not weak. This is a result of those around you and it does not say anything about your character."

"We still love you so much, Squirt," Cooper added. "No matter what. You're going to get through this."

"I have the best support system in the world," Blaine said, wiping his eyes and smiling at Kurt.

The Andersons finally turned their attention from Blaine and looked at Kurt and Santana standing against the wall. Mrs. Anderson came over to Kurt and took his hand in hers, smiling with wet eyes. "Thank you so much for helping our son. I know you've done the best you can."

Kurt nodded. "Of course. I love him."

Mrs. Anderson nodded and then turned to Santana, taking her hand too. "We know you've been of help too. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. What's your name?"

"Mom, that's Santana. The one I've told you about on the phone."

"Oh, of course. Thank you too, Santana. Our son would be much worse off without you."

Santana's eyes were wide as she nodded and shook Mrs. Anderson's hand. "Um. Yeah. Blaine's my brother."

Cooper smiled at that, and Kurt decided it was time to give them time alone as a family. He nudged Santana's shoulder and said, "We'll give you guys some time alone. Blaine, I'll be back as soon as classes let out tomorrow, okay?"

Blaine nodded. "Okay."

Kurt headed over to the bed and kissed Blaine's mouth, soft and deep. "I love you."

"I love you too," Blaine said, smiling.

Kurt wiped the tears from under his eyes with the pads of his thumbs before placing one last kiss on Blaine's cheek and disappearing from the room, Santana following. They headed outside and hailed a cab together, climbing in.

"He did really well in there," Santana said on the ride home.

Kurt nodded, staring out the window. "He did. I'm proud of him."

"Do you think he'll be okay for the night? Maybe I should go back later."

"No, he'll be fine. His history with his parents is...complicated, but they're all in a good place now. He's in good hands. He'll be fine until tomorrow. Knowing his mom, she'll insist on staying the night on a cot, and his dad will follow suit. Cooper will go get a hotel room for them, insisting that he needs his full beauty rest, but Blaine will be just fine."

Santana paused. "You really do know him, don't you? You know him and his family and their dynamics and habits."

"I've been with him for years, Santana. Of course I do."

They were silent the rest of the way back to the loft and up the stairs, but once they'd arrived, they both knew the routine. Kurt could hear Rachel snoring in her section-_I do not snore!_-so he knew she was already asleep. Santana followed into Kurt's bedroom and shut the curtain behind her. Kurt stripped down to his underwear and then slipped on a pair of sweatpants and Santana stripped to her bra and underwear before they both climbed into Kurt's bed.

Santana cuddled on Kurt's chest like Blaine usually did, laying her head over his heart and wrapping an arm around her waist. She used to always issue a disclaimer that this never happened, but after two weeks that had stopped, and they both knew this was a secret only they would share.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Santana said.

Kurt ran a hand through her hair. "Goodnight, Santana."

... ... ...

Blaine spent most of his days filling in crossword puzzles. He knew it was lame, but it was the most he could do in his condition. If he got the purse to push the lap tray far enough down his leg, he could still use his right hand to write. So, usually, he pulled the crossword puzzle book Kurt had bought him close enough with the left hand so he could read it and then when he knew an answer, put it down on the tray far enough so he could write in the answer.

It was boring, sure, but it was his life. The good thing was that his fingers and hand still worked functionally, which meant what they'd really need to watch out for was his shoulder. That would be fine, though, he was almost sure of it. The real cause for concern was his right leg. It was bound in a plaster cast from ankle to the top of his thigh and he had no idea what his muscle and tendon usage would be like when he got out of it.

The thick bandages around his skull reminded him of the brain surgery and he knew he was lucky to even be alive. He almost liked the bandages because of that, but he knew they'd have to come off eventually. And when they did, they'd reveal a patch of hair that had been shaved off for surgery. He didn't know whether to just comb over and pretend he didn't have a bald spot until it grew back or to just shave his whole head and get it over with.

Then he'd look like a cancer patient and he could pretend he wasn't in this situation because he was a suicidal crazy person. He'd just be another sad cancer kid.

He couldn't do that, though. It felt too dishonest. Especially to the kids who actually had cancer. He didn't want to disrespect him.

Kurt did come back after classes the next day, but he fidgeted more than usual, looking anxious.

"Where's your family?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine smiled. "Right here." He reached out a hand, and Kurt visibly relaxed, stepping forward to take it. "No, I insisted they take some time and get out of the hospital for a while. I said that they should go visit our cousins on the upper east side, but really I just needed space to breathe."

"They all stayed the night, huh?"

"Yeah. Eve set up a few cots for them and they all spent the night. Apparently that's allowed? I'm not sure why."

"Even Cooper stayed?"

Blaine nodded. "Even Cooper."

"Wow," Kurt said. "I thought he would've been the first to book a hotel."

"He did, but he kept making up excuses to stay later and later and eventually it was way past my bedtime and I just told him I wanted him to stay because it would make me feel better to have my big brother around."

"That was nice of you."

"I guess," Blaine said, shrugging.

And it killed Kurt that even after everything, Blaine still couldn't see how good he was.

"Well, it sounds like you had a very eventful night, then. You can take a nap if you want."

"I've been napping all day," Blaine told him, giving him a half-smile. "I'd rather hear about your day."

Kurt told him about his day, skating over the morning and going directly to talking about his classes. He gave more detail than usual, which would've been fine if Blaine hadn't noticed the way he was shifting and fidgeting in the chair and pausing between sentences and stories as if he was trying to figure out more to say.

Eventually, Blaine said, "Sounds like an interesting day."

"It was."

"Mmm."

Kurt pursed his lips. "So, I had a talk with Santana this morning."

And there it was. Blaine raised his eyebrows. "You did? About what? Did she drink the last of the coffee without setting a new pot to brew again?"

"No, it was nothing like that. It was about you, actually."

"Me? Really?"

"Yeah. About...about your studies at NYADA."

Blaine frowned. "If this is about me taking a semester off I don't have a choice, Kurt. You know that. I'd be in class right now if I could."

"No, honey, I know. It's not exactly that."

"Then what is it?"

Kurt licked his lips. "I think-_we_, Santana and I, think you should consider transferring."

"Transferring," Blaine repeated after a moment.

"Yeah."

"Why would I transfer?"

"Because the kids are so horrible to you at NYADA, Blaine. The whole reason we are where we are right now is because of the bullying you endured there. Santana and I both agree that transferring would be your best option. It's your decision, of course, but that's our advice. So what do you think?"

Blaine bit his lip to keep from snapping. "Where would I go, Kurt?"

"To NYU, maybe? They have a good theatre program over there."

"But I like my education at NYADA. I enjoy the classes and the professors, even if Cassandra July was a pain in the ass. I'm done with her classes now. I can take other professors for my upper level dance classes, if I want."

"I know, but just-okay, just take a second to think about it. You could start clean, honey. No one would know about the things you've gone through here. No one would bully you for stupid things like weight or rumors. NYU is a big university for countless different majors and not just theatre. You could really branch out there. Make new friends and learn what a good college experience is like."

"But I like my college experience at NYADA."

"Do you really?" Kurt tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "Because from where I'm sitting, your experience at NYADA has forced you into starvation, self-mutilation, and a half-successful suicide attempt." He sat forward and took Blaine's hand, smiling. "Blaine, you can have better there. You can _be _better there. Don't you want the chance to start over? To have a clean slate? To really make some friends and enjoy college?"

Blaine sighed and looked away, mulling it over. It wasn't such a bad idea. Starting over sounded pretty damn good from where he was laying, but transferring meant he was running away again. It was like Dalton. He'd be running away from his problems instead of facing them head-on and he told himself he wouldn't do that anymore.

Of course, that was before all this. He obviously hadn't handled his problems head-on very well, either, so maybe he was just incapable of coping with difficult situations.

For now. Hopefully his time on the psych floor would help with that.

"I'll think about it," he finally said, meeting Kurt's eyes. Kurt looked skeptical at his answer so he added, "I really will consider it, Kurt. I'm not saying yes, but I'm not saying no. I will honestly think about it, okay?"

Kurt nodded, smiling. "Okay." He kissed the back of Blaine's hand before settling back in the chair. "As long as you really consider it. We just want what's best for you. We want to make sure you're okay again. You know that, right?"

"I know, I do," Blaine said. The way Kurt said it, though, made him feel uneasy. His parents had said they just wanted what was best for him.

It occurred to him then that through all of his issues lately, he and Kurt had lost their being a couple. There was no romance between them, not anymore. There was love, sure, but Blaine had lost the ability to discern it from the love he had for Santana. It had been so long since he'd been intimate with Kurt or even shared more than a fleeting kiss.

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Climb up on the bed with me."

Kurt hesitated only a moment before climbing on the bed on Blaine's left side—his good side. "Yes?"

In lieu of answer, Blaine slipped his left hand behind Kurt's head and brought their faces together, tilting Kurt's head to capture his lips. It was a soft kiss at first, the ones Blaine had grown accustomed to. The same ones that made him feel loved but didn't make his belly grow warm or his toes curl in the sheets. He moved his lips against Kurt's a little too forcefully, licking along the seam of Kurt's lips to get him to open up. He did so, willingly, and Blaine licked into Kurt's mouth. His hand behind Kurt's head moved down to the side of Kurt's neck, thumb brushing against Kurt's jawline. Kurt whimpered into the kiss and tilted his head, opening his mouth wider and brushing Blaine's tongue with his own.

It was only when a nurse came in that they broke apart. He smiled sheepishly and averted his eyes. "Sorry, guys. I'll be back out in a minute."

Kurt sat back on the bed, breathing heavily and looking at Blaine. Blaine smiled and brushed his hand over Kurt's thigh, fingers dancing up and across his zipper. The nurse noticed, Blaine was sure of it, but he didn't say anything. Just as soon as he'd come in, he was out again.

"What was that for?" Kurt asked, grabbing Blaine's hand on his pants and pushing it away.

"Nothing. Does it have to be for something?"

"Well, no, but…"

Blaine sighed. "We've lost the romance, Kurt. We've lost the spark. It's been all about me and my mental health and we haven't had sex in months. I just wanted to touch you again, kiss you like we meant it. I wanted to make sure that we're still here."

Kurt smiled sadly and shifted to lay down by Blaine's side, curling into him. "We're still here, Blaine. Our romance isn't gone. It's been put on the back burner maybe, but it's not lost. We'll find it again. But right now there are more important things to worry about."

"Kurt Hummel claiming there are more important things than sex? The world really has come to an end," Blaine teased, smiling.

Kurt's smile was less genuine now but Blaine could tell he was trying. "Hey, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a baby penguin, remember?"

"You have never been a baby penguin and we both know it."

"You're probably right."

Blaine nuzzled against Kurt. "I really do miss this, you know. Us."

"I know. But the reason we haven't had sex in months is because you were starving and cutting yourself, Blaine. You have to get better before we can think about that, okay? Your health and well-being are more important to me than an orgasm."

"You must really love me."

Kurt's face was more serious than Blaine had ever seen it. "I really do. I love you, Blaine. I don't want you to ever forget that, okay? I'm here for you every step of the way to you getting better. And when you come home, trust me, I'm going to show you just how much I love you."

Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt's jaw. "I love you too."

At least that gave him motivation to get better so he could go home. Of course, there was how much Kurt loved him, and Santana, and how important it was for him to love himself—(which he was still working on). But more importantly, there was sex to look forward to, and he couldn't miss out on that.


	52. Braces

_Anon prompted "Feel free to pass this one if you want. In canon Kurt seems to be a very aesthetically focused person. So, I could see Blaine freaking out (this would have to be set in late middle to early high school) if he had to wear some sort of a brace (dental or orthopedic). So I guess that's that. Thanks!"_

… … …

Middle school has been and always will be the worst time in a person's life. That was just a fact. Blaine knew it, and his older brother Cooper knew it when Blaine called him crying about the mean kids at school.

But then Blaine met Kurt. They were paired together for an English assignment in seventh grade. Blaine had never really noticed Kurt before, honestly, but once the boy had shuffled across the room to sit next to him, he wondered how that had happened. Kurt was adorable. Even in his awkward stage—and Blaine couldn't even pretend like they weren't all in their awkward stages right now—Kurt still looked cute.

He smiled at Blaine as he sat down. "Hi."

"Hi," Blaine said back.

"I'm Kurt."

"I'm Blaine."

"It's nice to meet you," Kurt said, holding out his hand

Blaine smiled and took it. He kept Kurt's hand in his for a little longer than necessary before dropping it and blushing.

"Um, so, looks like we're working together."

"It appears that way."

"Have you read 'The Tell-Tale Heart' before?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not much for scary stories."

"It's less creepy if you read it with someone else. You can come over tonight and we can read it together, if you want."

"Sure. That'd be nice," Kurt said. He ducked his head, but Blaine could tell he was blushing. At least he wasn't alone.

Blaine was different. He knew it. He'd known it since last year, when all the guys started noticing all the girls and their growing breasts. And while Blaine appreciated them aesthetically—he thought the curves were nice—they didn't exactly make his… Well, they didn't excite him. Not the way he got excited in the locker room after gym class. While they weren't forced to shower after, they had the option, and some of the eighth graders took advantage of it, and Blaine…well, he found he couldn't look away.

He hadn't allowed himself to really accept what this meant for him yet. He knew what it meant, of course. He'd given it enough thought; (sometimes it felt like it was the only thing he ever thought about). But that didn't mean he had to accept it anytime soon. He was still in middle school and he still tried to appear as normal as possible. That was the only way to survive.

But Kurt, adorable and blushing, might understand him. Kurt might be struggling with the same things.

The bell rang and Kurt smiled. "Okay. So, I guess I'll see you tonight? What's your phone number? My dad will probably want to call your parents before he brings me over."

"Oh, right." Blaine hastily scribbled his home phone number on a sheet of paper and ripped it off, handing it to Kurt. "Here you go."

"Cool. I'll see you later, Blaine."

"Later, Kurt."

The rest of Blaine's day was better after that. Meeting Kurt put him in such a good mood that even when the boys in his math class teased him about his crazy hair and thick-rimmed glasses and getting the problem wrong when he went up to the board, it didn't matter. For once, he was able to ignore the bullying, because he had found his new best friend.

Kurt came over that night and they had a really great time. Kurt still got scared as Blaine read "The Tell-Tale Heart" to him out loud, but that just meant that Blaine got to hold Kurt's hand as he read, and he couldn't complain about that. He worried that Kurt would pull his hand away because Blaine _knew _his palms were sweaty, but he didn't. Kurt just clutched his hand tightly in his and listened.

After they read, Kurt got to stay for dinner. Blaine's parents seemed to like Kurt a lot, which was a total relief. Kurt was basically the coolest person Blaine had met since his best friend Mark in kindergarten, but Mark moved away before middle school, so Blaine was glad to have met Kurt now. He sorely needed a new best friend to help him survive this year and the next.

When Kurt's dad came to pick him up, Blaine walked him to the door. The adults all chatted while Blaine turned to Kurt with a shy smile.

"I'm really glad you came over. Can you come over again soon?"

Kurt turned to his dad. "Dad, can I come over again soon?"

His dad laughed and turned to Blaine's parents, and they all exchanged that look that Blaine recognized as adults being amused by children. Except he wasn't a child anymore and it only annoyed him now.

"Sure, bud. If Blaine's parents say it's okay."

"Kurt is wonderful. We'd be happy to have him," Blaine's mom said.

Satisfied, Blaine ignored the adults again and turned back to Kurt. "I'm really glad we got paired on this assignment."

"Me too," Kurt said, smiling.

Feeling brave, Blaine stepped in and gave Kurt a hug. He held on loosely in case Kurt didn't want to hug him back, but Kurt wrapped his arms around him and held on tighter, pulling Blaine closer. When they pulled away, Blaine's heart thudded hard and fast in his chest.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. "Tomorrow."

Their friendship only grew after that. They realized that they had two other classes together—social studies and science—and smiled at each other from across the room all during class. When they were allowed to choose partners to work on assignments, they always chose each other. Kurt came over to Blaine's house a lot, whether to work on homework or to just hang out.

The more Blaine got to know Kurt, the more he realized that he had a crush. Big time. Everything he learned about Kurt just made him like him more. He was smart and clever, often leaning over to Blaine's side when they were allowed to sit together in class and whispering funny things about their classmates or teacher in his ear. And he was a good artist. He doodled in the margins of his notes a lot—something Blaine noticed when they would study together—and they drawings were always really good. Kurt even showed him some of his top-secret drawings of clothes that he did in his spare time.

Blaine soon learned that Kurt was very focused on physical appearances. Not in a bad way, obviously, or he wouldn't be friends with Blaine, who had frizzy curly hair and glasses and acne. Kurt just appreciated physical beauty; Blaine couldn't fault him for that.

Still, Blaine couldn't help but feel nervous when his parents told him he was getting braces.

"I can get by without them, right?" he asked, desperately trying to get out of it.

His mom smiled sympathetically and pet his hair. "Oh, sweetie, don't you want to have your teeth straight?"

"Well, yeah, but not with braces! Isn't there something else? Can they do a surgery or something?"

"I'm afraid braces are your only option, Blaine," his dad said.

Blaine groaned. "I already get made fun of enough at school. I don't need braces too."

"I tell you what," his mom said. "I will take you to the eye doctor and get you some contacts and we can go to the dermatologist and see about getting you acne medicine, and then people will be so happy to see your clear skin and beautiful eyes that they won't notice the braces."

"That's not any better," Blaine muttered, huffing. "And thanks for pointing out my hideous face."

His mom sighed and looked at his dad and said, "I can't win," before walking away.

"Blaine, this isn't the end of the world," his dad said.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Duh. But that doesn't make it better."

"It's only for a year, son. A year and a half tops."

"I have to wear braces for a whole year?!" Blaine asked, eyes widening. He groaned and crossed his arms. "This is the worst."

"You can sulk all you want, but you'll be thanking your mother and I in the future."

Blaine ignored his dad and stomped upstairs to his room. It wasn't that he was mad about the braces, per se. It was more that he was worried what Kurt would say. Kurt, who was all about physical beauty. Kurt, who astonishingly only got about one pimple per month. Kurt, his best friend and crush.

The next day at school, Blaine moped. He couldn't help it. He had an appointment with his new orthodontist the following week and every second that ticked by was another second closer to getting his mouth full of metal.

Kurt nudged him at lunch, holding out half of his PB&J. Blaine took it and gave Kurt half of his ham and cheese.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, taking a bite. "You seem upset about something."

Blaine pouted, picking at his potato chips. "I have to get braces."

"Oh, man, really? That sucks."

"I know."

"How long will you have to wear them?"

"Dad said maybe a year and a half."

"That's not so bad. There's a girl in my math class who has to wear hers for three years."

Blaine grimaced. "Yikes."

"I know," Kurt said. He touched Blaine's shoulder. "So don't be too sad! It could be worse."

Blaine glanced over at him. "Will you still be my friend? Even when I have braces?"

"Of course I will. You're my best friend, silly."

"I know, but I'm gonna look like even more of a loser now."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You'll still be my Blaine."

Blaine's stomach flopped at the way Kurt said _my Blaine_. He ducked his head, smiling. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and knew his face was probably red, but he didn't care.

"Thanks, Kurt," he said.

Kurt bumped Blaine's shoulder with his own. Blaine looked up and noticed Kurt's shy smile and blush mirroring his own. "I'll always think you're cute."

"Shut up," Blaine said, biting his lip.

Kurt's face fell a little. "I'm sorry. I—"

"No, I—I didn't mean it like that! I'm just… Sorry. I'm sorry."

They sat in awkward silence, picking at their lunches. Blaine looked around, making sure no one was paying attention to them or their conversation, before turning to Kurt and speaking in a low voice.

"I think you're cute too."

Kurt smiled but didn't look up. "You do?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Kurt looked up at Blaine, about to say something, but the bell rang to signal the end of lunch and broke the moment. "Guess we better get to science."

Blaine sighed. "I hate that class."

"I know. Hopefully we'll get a group assignment and it'll go by fast today."

They headed down the hall, careful to keep their distance and not walk too close. When they got to the room they took their assigned seats. They weren't far from each other, exactly, but they weren't close, either. Blaine listened to the teacher explain the differences between a plant and animal cell until someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around, eyebrows raised. The girl behind him held out a folded up note. Frowning, he took it, turning around in his seat and opening it.

The handwriting was Kurt's, Blaine would recognize it anywhere, and he grinned as he read the note.

_I like you. Do you like me?_

Underneath, there were two boxes, and beside both of them Kurt had written _yes. _Blaine laughed quietly and checked both of them, adding a smiley face to the side. He folded it back up and passed it to the girl behind him. Their teacher was still talking, discussing chlorophyll and chloroplasts. Blaine tried to pay attention again when the girl tapped on his shoulder, holding out the note.

He unfolded it, smiling already. There was no real reply, but to the side of their exchange towards the bottom of the page, Kurt had drawn a heart and written inside in his neat script _Kurt Hummel + Blaine Anderson. _Blaine bit his lip and folded the note back up, stowing it safely in his pocket. He turned around to look at Kurt a few desks behind him and a couple rows to his left. Kurt smiled shyly, wiggling his fingers in a small wave.

Kurt liked him. Even with the glasses and the hair and the blemishes. Even with the upcoming addition of braces. Kurt still liked him.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Blaine might just survive middle school after all.


	53. The Badass Brothers

_Anon prompted: I have this idea that Puck and Blaine are really good friends and Puck pretty much takes it upon himself to look after him and all that like as a 'big brother' :) It would be fantastic to have that as a ficlet!_

… … …

When Blaine transfers to McKinley, he figures that it'll be an easy transition. He already knows the New Directions, albeit distantly, so it's not like he's diving into a sea of strangers. He knows the campus, sort of, so he doesn't think he'll get lost. And he's already got one guaranteed extracurricular activity—glee club.

Most of them welcome him with open arms, smiling and clapping when he joins the room. Tina leans over to whisper that they should do a duet together soon and Sugar tells him that she loves his height and wants to carry him in her purse. Which, okay, that one was a little weird, but Blaine's known Brittany for a little while now so he's really not that thrown off.

There are only two people that surprise him with their reactions, and that's Finn and Puck.

Blaine expected Finn to be really warm and welcoming since outside of school, he's participated in several video game afternoons while Kurt sat beside him flipping through magazines or sketching. He'd even watched countless football games with Finn and Kurt's dad. It was really important to Blaine when they first started dating to make sure Kurt's family liked him, and he thought they did.

But when Blaine transferred to McKinley, Finn's attitude towards him shifted completely. He was cold and mean and unwelcoming and outright insulting. He sneered at Blaine constantly, and Blaine had no idea what he'd done to make Finn so angry with him.

Puck, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. After glee club on Blaine's second day at McKinley, Puck grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"Hey, dude, you got a sec?"

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, who was caught up in conversation with Artie, and nodded. "Sure. What's up?"

"You know my boy Hummel went through some shit when he was here."

"Yes. I'm aware."

"So if anyone here gives you shit, you tell me. Got it?"

Blaine frowned. "You know, Puck, I can fight my own battles."

"I know, but you don't have to anymore. You have people that'll help you out here. I just want you to know I've got your back. We can tag-team 'em or something."

"Right. Yeah, okay. I'll let you know if anyone gives me trouble."

"Cool." Puck held his fist out, so Blaine bumped it with his own. Puck nodded and walked away.

Still a little thrown off, Blaine headed over to Kurt and trailed his fingers down Kurt's arm before taking his hand in his. "You ready to go?"

Kurt smiled and nodded at him. "Sure. Artie, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Bye, guys."

When they left the room, they let go of each other's hands, instead choosing to walk closely side-by-side. There weren't a lot of students left at this hour, but the ones that were still here were mainly jocks who'd stayed after for practice and Blaine didn't want any trouble. Even if Puck did have his back.

"So, Puck came up to me after practice just now."

Kurt glanced over at him. "I saw that. What'd he want?"

"He wanted me to know he has my back, apparently. He said if anyone gives me trouble I should tell him."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. I didn't even think he liked me, really."

"Puck's a good guy at heart," Kurt said, shrugging. "He gets mixed up in a lot of bad stuff but he's a really good friend. Very loyal."

"Good to know."

A couple days later, Blaine was standing in the hall caught in a crowd of students, totally lost. Somehow he'd taken a turn at the wrong corner and now he was in a hall completely unfamiliar to him. He walked slowly, scanning the classroom numbers and trying to figure out where he'd ended up, but he didn't recognize anything.

"Hey, dude," Puck said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Where you headed?"

"Um, I _was _headed to pre-calc, but now I'm all turned around."

"Oh, the math hall is this way. Come on, I'll take you there."

"Aren't you going to be late for your own class?"

"God willing."

Blaine laughed and followed Puck. "Alright."

Puck walked with purpose and they had no trouble getting to the math hall. Students jumped out of his way whenever they saw him coming, which was a little alarming but not all that surprising to Blaine.

"This is probably you," Puck said, stopping outside of Blaine's classroom.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, it is. Thanks. I was completely turned around over there."

"That was the tech hall, where all the computer labs are. You just took a right where you should've taken a left."

"Right. Well, thanks again."

"No problemo, hombre." The bell rang. Puck pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and a lighter from his front. "Well, it seems I'm late for Loitering 101. Have fun with your numbers and shit."

"Are you really skipping class?"

"It's history. I don't give a fuck about the past. I'm living in the present, man. You should try it. Wanna come skip with me?"

Blaine glanced into the room where the teacher was giving him a pointed look. "Um, I think I'd better attend class today. Thanks, though."

"Yeah. Catch you later, dude."

The following week, Blaine had just gotten to school. He was running a little late because his hair wouldn't cooperate so he wasn't paying attention to much, really, except getting the proper books out of his locker and stuffing his backpack in there. He dropped his notebook on the floor and cursed as he bent down to pick it up.

"Hey, Anderson."

Blaine looked up just in time to see a purple slushie being thrown in his face. He shut his eyes a fraction of a second too late and yelped in pain as the flavoring and food coloring stung his eyes. "God damn it!"

He heard the guys high five above him, laughing. "Welcome to McKinley, faggot."

Blaine flinched. It'd been a while since he'd had that word directed toward him and it still hurt just as much.

A rough hand grabbed him and tugged him to stand up, and he thought that maybe the slushie wasn't enough and these guys were gonna beat him up now, but then he heard Puck's voice.

"You two jackasses messing with Anderson?"

"Oh, come on, Puckerman. Don't tell me you're friends with two homos now," one of them said.

"You got a problem with that?"

"They're gonna turn you!"

"You don't _turn _gay, idiot. Apologize to Blaine."

Blaine wiped his eyes, trying to see. His vision was blurry, but he could see Puck standing in front of him and the two guys in lettermans frowning.

"Yeah, right."

Puck took a step toward them, holding up his fists. "You apologize to him or I'm gonna bash your fucking faces in."

"Chill out, man, he's just a faggot. What do you care?"

Puck took another couple steps forward and punched the guy in the jaw so hard he fell to the ground. He looked to the other one. "You gonna apologize? Or do you want a matching bruise to go with Johnson over here?"

"S—Sorry, man," the guy stuttered out, holding his hands up. He picked up his friend and they walked away.

Puck turned to Blaine and frowned. "Dude, you're kind of covered in slush."

"Thanks. I hadn't noticed."

"Come on. I'll take you to the locker room and help you clean up."

"Skipping class again?"

"It's English. I already speak the language. What do I need a class for?"

Blaine fought the urge to give Puck a lecture on the value of education and grabbed his book off the floor. It had thankfully only been slightly splattered with the slushie. He followed Puck to the boys' locker room and over to one of the sinks. Puck grabbed a towel from a wire shelf and brought it over.

"You're gonna want to wash your eyes out first," he said. "Do it real good. It'll sting but it'll feel better soon."

Blaine ducked his head down in the faucet and washed his eyes out, biting his lip to keep from groaning in pain. While he was already down there, he took the time to scrub the rest of his face and wash out his hair. God, his hair that he'd spent extra time on this morning until he got it just right. Now he'd have to start all over again. At least he had a bottle of gel in his locker.

When he was done, he shut off the water. Puck shoved the towel into his hands and Blaine wiped down his face then rubbed it over his hair. "Thanks."

"No prob, dude. Those guys are pussies. They're assholes, but they're pussies."

"Right," Blaine said.

"I know you said you like to fight your own battles, but you were kinda incapacitated. You can take the lead on the next fight."

"I'd rather not get in any fights."

"It doesn't look like you're gonna have much of a choice, dude."

Blaine sighed. He really wished things would be different here than they were at his first public school. "Yeah. I guess."

He finished drying off and stared down at his yellow polo, frowning at the giant purple stain. "This is gonna come out, right?"

"Yeah. Give it to your mom. Moms always know how to get shit like that out."

Blaine couldn't remember the last time he saw his mom doing laundry. "Um, you wouldn't happen to know how, would you?"

Puck shrugged. "Not really. I've only been slushied a couple times since I usually beat the asses of whoever does it."

"Right."

"Kurt'll probably know."

Duh. "Yeah, you're right. I'll ask him." Blaine bit his lip, still staring at his shirt. He couldn't possibly go through the day looking like, this, but he didn't have any extra clothes. He definitely wasn't putting on his gym shirt.

"You can borrow one of my shirts," Puck said. "I keep a few extra ones in my gym locker in case I get someone's blood on them."

Blaine frowned at him. "Do you think that maybe you should tone it down a notch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe not beat everyone in the school up for simply looking at you the wrong way? I mean, how many times have you been to juvie now? Or been suspended? These things go on a permanent record, Puck. They're going to make it really hard for you in the future."

Puck shrugged. "Like I said, I live in the present. I ignore the past and don't think about the future. No one's gonna push me around. Not today, not tomorrow. If that means I fuck stuff up for me in the future, then whatever. I'm not gonna be someone's punching bag. Not again."

Blaine immediately wanted to ask Puck what he meant by not again, but he knew it wasn't his business. "Alright."

Puck nodded and walked away. When he came back, he was holding a plain white t-shirt. "I know it's not your usual preppy boy style but it's all I got."

"It's fine. Thanks, Puck."

Blaine pulled his shirt and undershirt off in one move and then slipped Puck's shirt over his head. It was a little big but not too much. Blaine tucked it into his black pants, the frowned. It looked ridiculous. He untucked it and pursed his lips, looking himself over. His hair was starting to frizz up already, but he knew if he gelled it down with this new outfit, he'd look even more ridiculous than when he'd tucked the shirt in. Then again, he'd look ridiculous if he _didn't _gel too.

He headed over to his locker and grabbed his hair gel, then used a much smaller amount than normal, running it through and using just enough to tame the frizz. Kurt would be pleased when he saw him; he was always begging Blaine to use less gel and let the curls free.

"Dude, you look really badass. Minus the shoes."

Blaine glanced down at his loafers. "Yeah, I guess these shoes look really dumb now."

"Eh, it doesn't matter."

It didn't, really. The only person who would notice or care was Kurt, and he'd probably be too distracted by Blaine's upper body to say anything. "You're right."

"Since you're already, like, fifteen minutes late, you wanna skip with me?"

"I really shouldn't…"

"You're already late. Live a little, Anderson."

Blaine sighed. "Yeah, alright. Just this once, though."

Puck shrugged and headed for the exit to the football field. Blaine grabbed his book and his shirt and followed Puck across the field and under the bleachers. Puck leaned against one of the supporting poles and pulled out his packet of cigarettes.

He held it out to Blaine. "Want one?"

"I don't smoke," Blaine said.

"You can always start."

Blaine looked around. If he was caught, his parents would be livid. They'd probably ground him indefinitely and take away his car. "Um, no thanks. I think this is enough rebellion for one day."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Suit yourself," Puck said. He pulled one out for himself and stuffed the packet back in his pocket, then grabbed his lighter and lit the cigarette. He huffed on it for a moment before blowing the smoke out.

They stood in relative silence for a while, and Blaine wondered why Puck was doing all this. Why he was being so helpful and friendly. Why he was defending him and actively making an effort to hang out with him. He'd expected this kind of stuff from Finn, minus the smoking, but Finn was being weird.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Puck said, grinning.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You know. Helping me. Being nice to me."

"Am I not allowed to be your friend?"

"I mean, you are, I just…didn't think you'd want to be."

Puck's eyes narrowed as he looked Blaine up and down. He took a drag of his cigarette before blowing smoke rings, still staring at Blaine. "Look, I'm a dick. I know it and the whole school knows it. But I fucked up with Kurt. I bullied him for a while, and then when I stopped, I just let other guys do it. I did nothing to help him. I had no idea what Karofsky was doing and I didn't care enough to find out. I don't want that to happen again. Kurt was in really bad shape and I didn't give a fuck, but I do now. And I'm trying to be a better person or whatever. I really like Kurt, and you seem pretty cool. You make him happy and I'm glad. I just wanted to…I don't know, take you under my wing or some shit? And you tell anyone about this, I'll come after you, alright? I can't have you ruining my reputation. I just thought you could be like…my little brother or something."

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled. "Yeah. Alright." They fell silent again, Puck smoking and Blaine kicking at the dirt on the ground. After a while he said, "Kurt's in a good place now, you know. And he doesn't blame you for anything. He likes you, actually."

"Yeah?" Puck asked, eyes glancing over him.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "He says you're a good friend. Very loyal."

Puck looked down, but Blaine caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Good."

Later on in glee club, Blaine glanced over at Puck and smiled, going to sit in the chair next to him on the back row. They didn't say anything, but Puck held out his fist and Blaine bumped it.

The look on Kurt's face was hilarious when he came into the room and saw Blaine sitting next to Puck on the back row, hair loose and wearing an untucked white t-shirt. Blaine had to bite his lip from laughing. He glanced over to Puck. They made eye contact and Puck smirked, small, before looking away.

Kurt came up and sat on Blaine's other side. He dropped his bag and leaned over to Blaine, talking low into his ear. "Excuse me, have you seen my boyfriend? Drastically over-gelled hair, wears bowties and suspenders and lots of bright colored polos."

"No, I haven't seen him. Sounds like kind of a dork if you ask me," Blaine said, keeping his voice low and even.

Kurt's expression got even funnier. "You're right. I may dump him and date you instead."

Blaine smirked and put his arm around Kurt's chair, pulling him closer. "Lucky me."

Kurt laughed lightly before saying, "Seriously, what's going on here?"

"I got slushied. Puck let me borrow one of his shirts. It looked stupid tucked in and even more stupid with gelled hair. I'm being rebellious today."

"I like it."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"In that case, maybe I'll take up smoking and join Puck's motorcycle gang."

Kurt frowned. "Okay, let's not get too crazy here. The smell of smoke is repugnant. Speaking of which…" Kurt leaned forward and gave Puck a pointed look. "You reek, Noah."

Puck shrugged. "I really don't give a fuck."

"Of course you don't." Kurt leaned back in his chair, settling in under Blaine's arm.

Blaine laughed and kissed Kurt's temple. (That's what he loved about the choir room. They were safe to show affection). "I promise I won't take up smoking. I can't say the same for the motorcycle gang, though. I may buy a leather jacket, too."

"So you're turning into a regular badboy now, huh?"

"Maybe. You already said you like it. No take-backs."

Kurt laughed outright, shaking his head. "You can't be a badboy and say things like 'no take-backs.'"

"I'm still learning!"

"Yeah, okay, honey. You buy your leather jacket and your motorcycle. Be as bad as you want. We both know you'll still beg me to cuddle on the couch and watch Disney movies."

Puck sat forward and shot Kurt a look. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with Disney movies. Don't hate on my girl Mulan. She saved a whole fucking country. There's nothing pansy about that."

"I'm more partial to _Aladdin _myself," Blaine said. "Jasmine owns a pet tiger and she hugs it. No fear. You can't get more badass than that."

"Plus she's smoking hot. For a cartoon."

Blaine pursed his lips before shrugging. "Yeah, you're right."

Mr. Schue walked in then, interrupting their conversation to talk way too much about his personal life before explaining that week's lesson, which was also too closely tied to his personal life.

Puck nudged Blaine. "Disney marathon this weekend. You game?"

"Definitely. My house or yours?"

"Yours. I wanna see Château Anderson. You strike me as a mansion type."

Blaine smiled, thinking of the six bedrooms and five bathrooms in his house. "I guess you'll find out this weekend."

Puck nodded before leaning his head back against the wall and falling asleep. Blaine rolled his eyes, smiling, and turned back to the front of the room.

Kurt tapped his chest. "Are you and Puck, like, best friends now?"

"I guess," Blaine said, shrugging. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"Okay. You're coming over after school, right?"

"Yeah, it's a Wednesday."

Kurt smiled. "Good."

Wednesday was one of their scheduled make-out days, since Finn had football practice and Burt did inventory at the shop on those days and Carole usually worked the late shift at the hospital.

Blaine thought back to Kurt's reaction when he first walked into the room and got an idea. He nudged Puck awake and muttered, "Do you own a leather jacket?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Is it here?"

"In my locker, I think."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Why?"

Blaine blushed. "Um, Kurt kind of likes this whole…badboy thing. And I'm going over to his house later, and no one's going to be home…"

Puck grinned and nodded. "Dude, get some! I'll totally grab it for you after this."

"Thanks."

"Puck, Blaine, can you guys please pay attention?" Mr. Schue asked.

The whole room turned to stare at them.

Blaine smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Sorry, Mr. Schue."

Satisfied, Mr. Schue started talking again.

"Dude, if you're gonna be a badass, rule number one: don't apologize to authorities. Ever."

Blaine laughed quietly. "Okay."

He may be a badass-in-training, but Blaine didn't think he could ever disrespect an adult. Maybe he'd be a semi-badass. Or part-time-badass. He could figure it out later.

After he borrowed Puck's jacket and went to Kurt's house, of course. Making out with his boyfriend was far more important.


	54. In Sickness and Health

_Anon sent me this headcanon prompt "so in most stories when blaine gets sick Kurt's all lovey dovey and helps blaine and such. But what if intend kurt get like easily grossed out with that type of stuff and blaine gets like food poising on the stomach flu and Kurt tries of make him feel better but he's super grossed out."_

… … …

They're cuddling on the couch watching a movie only about an hour after dinner when Blaine starts to feel it. His stomach is rolling and he starts to feel warm and clammy. He brushes it off, thinking maybe he just ate too much too fast at the restaurant and his stomach would settle soon.

It doesn't. He's able to sit another half-hour before clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Blaine?"

Blaine shakes his head and races for the bathroom down the hall, barely making it to the bathroom in time before his throat and stomach seize and he's vomiting into the toilet.

He breathes heavily, thinking maybe it was just a one time thing and he'd feel better, but he feels his stomach tense again and leans over the toilet bowl, puking more. He leans his head against the toilet seat, beyond the point of caring, and waits for Kurt to come make him feel better. They've been dating over a year and Kurt's always been so good to him and takes such good care of him.

Except Kurt never comes. He thinks maybe Kurt doesn't know anything is wrong, so he calls out weakly, "Kurt?"

"I'm here, baby," Kurt's voice says.

Blaine turns towards the door and frowns when he doesn't see his boyfriend. "Where are you?"

"I'm, uh, right outside. I'm right here."

"Can you come in here? I feel terrible." On cue, his stomach lurches again and he throws up some more.

"Blaine, I'm…I'm _really _sorry, but if I come in there, I'm just going to throw up too. I…I don't handle throw up very well."

Blaine moans. "Kurt, please. I really need you."

"I'm so sorry. I'll help you when you're done in there, okay? I just…I can't be around vomit."

Blaine sighs. He throws up a couple more times, then leans against the side of the bathtub, breathing heavily. His stomach feels like it's settled, so after ten minutes, he pushes to his feet. His knees wobble as he make his way to the door. Whatever it is has hit him hard and fast and he has to lean against the door frame for a break.

Kurt is standing in the hall right next to the door. He perks up when he sees Blaine. "Are you okay?"

"No," Blaine snaps. "I feel like crap and my boyfriend stood in the hall while I puked my guts out."

"I'm really sorry, honey, I just can't be around throw up. Trust me, it would've been even worse if I'd been in there."

"Whatever."

"How about I help you to the couch? I can take care of you over there. Unless you feel like you're going to throw up again…"

Blaine glares at him. "You are the worst boyfriend in the world."

"I'm sorry!"

Blaine makes his way down the hallway back to the Hummel couch. Kurt comes up behind him and holds onto his waist, steering him there and keeping him upright until he's made it. Blaine collapses onto the couch when they get back and curls up, shutting his eyes.

"I think I'm dying," he mutters.

Kurt kneels in front of him and pushes the loose hair off his forehead. "You're not dying," he says.

"I feel like it."

"You probably have food poisoning. I told you that chicken looked under-cooked. You should've sent it back like I said."

"Now is not the time for an 'I told you so,' Kurt."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says. He rubs Blaine's arm and hums. "What can I do?"

"Will you cuddle with me?"

Kurt bites his lip. "I, um… How about I sit at the other end of the couch and give you a foot rub?"

Blaine opens his eyes, narrowing them at Kurt. "Are you serious?"

"I'm really sorry! Sick people…really gross me out."

"It's food poisoning, Kurt. It's not contagious."

"I know, but…"

"You would rather touch my feet than lay with me?"

Kurt shrugs, smiling tentatively. "I love you?"

"No, I don't want your 'I love you,'" Blaine says with a groan. "I'll take your foot rub, though. And you're going to be making this up to me for weeks."

"Completely understandable," Kurt says. He gets up from the floor and goes to the opposite end of the couch, lifting Blaine's feet to sit down before settling them on his lap. He works his fingers over Blaine's feet, careful around the areas he knows Blaine is ticklish.

Blaine is okay for a while. It's been an hour and he thinks the worst of it has passed. Just as he starts drifting off, though, he feels his stomach roll again. Before he has the time to get up and get to the bathroom, he's throwing up all over the hardwood floor.

Kurt immediately jumps up and runs away, shouting, "I'm sorry, honey, I'm so, so sorry! I promise I'm going to make this up to you! I really will! I'm so sorry!"

"Save your apologies for when I'm not dying," Blaine shouts back, grimacing as he stares at his throw up on the ground. God, he is _so _not in a position to clean up after himself right now. "Kurt, I can't clean this up. I don't think I can move at all."

"That's okay! We can—um—Carole should be home soon! She deals with this all day long!"

"Are you serious?"

"Blaine, if I come in there to clean that up, I'm just going to add more to it!"

"What are you going to do when we have kids and they get sick?"

"…..I was gonna leave that to you."

Blaine groans. "You're the worst future husband ever."

The front door opens and Carole calls out, "I'm home!"

"Oh, thank god," Kurt says. "Blaine's sick. I think he has food poisoning. He threw up on the floor."

"Honey, why aren't you in there with him?"

"I don't do well with sick people."

Carole laughs and comes into the living room, standing in Blaine's line of vision with a sympathetic expression. "How do you feel, Blaine?"

"Crappy," he says. "And Kurt won't come near me."

"That's okay. I'll get you some medicine to settle your stomach and then be in to clean that up, okay?"

"Okay."

Carole leaves and Blaine pulls the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around himself and frowning. His body aches and his skin feels weird and all he wants is his boyfriend to cuddle him, but he knows Kurt isn't going to come back into the room until the vomit is cleaned from the floor.

When Carole comes back in, she's holding a bucket in one hand and a bottle of medicine in the other. She pours some syrup into a small, plastic cup and holds it out to him. "This should settle your stomach some, sweetheart."

Blaine takes the cup and tosses it back, then bites back the urge to throw up again. "That tastes disgusting," he coughs out.

"I know, but you'll feel better."

She takes the cup from him and sets it on the coffee table with the medicine, then pulls a big, yellow sponge out of the bucket—which Blaine can now see is full of soapy water—and starts cleaning up the vomit on the floor. When she's wiped it all up, she takes the bucket away, then comes back with Lysol cleaner and a rag and wipes down the floor. She finishes up and gives Blaine a small smile.

"All cleaned up. Do you feel any better?"

"A little," Blaine says.

"Good." She gets up and leaves the room, and Blaine hears her say to Kurt, "It's safe for you to return, dear. Go comfort your boyfriend."

He hears footsteps and cranes his neck to see Kurt coming back into the room, offering a small smile. "I love you?"

"You already tried that."

"I'm trying it again."

"Come cuddle me," Blaine says, giving Kurt a hard look. He knows it probably isn't as effective with how bad he feels but he tries anyway. "If you really loved me, you'd come cuddle me."

Kurt shifts his weight and taps his fingers on his thighs. "Okay, but only if you stay wrapped in that blanket. I need a barrier."

"Kurt, it's not the plague."

"I know that, I just—look, this is just one of my things, okay? No one's perfect. I have my flaws and this is one of them. I don't handle sick people well, alright? When my mom was going through chemo she threw up, like, all the time. And then she died. So forgive me for not handling vomit well, okay?"

Blaine softens and nods. "Okay. I forgive you."

"Good." Kurt comes over to the couch and settles in behind Blaine. He's in an odd half-sitting up position, probably so he doesn't have to bury his head near Blaine's clammy neck, but he has an arm around Blaine's waist and Blaine appreciates the effort. "I love you?"

Blaine closes his eyes, comforted simply from being held by his boyfriend. He feels a little better already. "I love you too."


	55. Like Father, Like Son

_Summary: A fill for Blangst Prompt of the Day #787 requested by a lovely anon.____Klaine discover their child has been self-harming, prompting Blaine to explain his past with it to show their kid they're not alone, with lots of comfort/cuddles from Kurt. TW: Self-harm/cutting._

_Note: This takes place in the same verse as my other daddies Klaine drabble, All Our Children._

… … …

The coffee pot brewed behind them, making its spitting and chortling sounds. Over the many, many years of drinking coffee every morning they'd both gotten used to it. The newspaper crackling as Blaine sat at the table and fussed with it to get it so he could read, the coffee brewing on the counter top, Kurt opening and closing cabinets as he put dishes away and considered what to make for breakfast.

It was a routine. One of their many, really, because they were both very composed people and liked being in control at all times.

"Crystal meth is becoming more of a problem than ever in the city," Blaine said idly.

Kurt hummed as he slid their glasses onto the top shelf of one of the cabinets. "Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"We'll have to keep a closer eye on Zach and Bex from now on, then."

"Do we really need to worry about that yet?"

"Drug use can start as early as eleven or twelve."

Blaine set down the newspaper and rubbed his forehead. "I can't imagine Rebecca sitting in a bathroom and shooting up."

"I'd rather not imagine that either, but we need to be realistic so we can best protect them from that kind of stuff. Zachary's fourteen now. There's no telling what kind of trouble he could get into."

"He's always been the good kid, though."

"That can change with puberty."

"Can't argue there," Blaine said.

Kurt came over to the kitchen table and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck from behind, kissing him on the cheek. "We have good kids, hon. I don't think we need to worry about either of them doing drugs."

"I agree," Blaine said, turning his head to capture his husband's lips in a kiss.

Kurt smiled and pulled away. He walked over to the kitchen archway and shouted up the stairs, "Kids! I'm taking you to school in half an hour! Come get your breakfast!"

"What're you making?" Blaine asked.

"It's a cereal day. I was up too late last night working on tailoring that gown."

"What time did you end up coming to bed?"

"Three-thirty," Kurt groaned.

Blaine smiled sympathetically and stood from the table, going to wrap his arms around Kurt. "I'm sorry, babe."

"I hate bridezillas."

"I know you do."

"Whose idea was it for me to work as a tailor at Kleinfeld?"

"Yours, dear."

Kurt sighed. "Drat. I was hoping I could blame you."

"Not this time."

"Too bad," Kurt said, kissing Blaine's forehead. He pushed away from Blaine's hold and went over to the coffee pot, pouring them both mugs and making them as they liked them. Blaine was back at the table when Kurt turned from the counter, so he set both their mugs in front of their chairs at the table and joined him.

Blaine moaned. "Thank you, oh my god." He grabbed his mug and blew on it for a short moment before taking a sip. He grimaced, pulling the mug away, then took another sip.

Kurt raised his eyebrows and laughed. "You're burning your mouth, aren't you?"

"It's so, so worth it."

"You went to bed at midnight. I don't want to hear it."

"Just because you're more tired doesn't mean I can't be tired at all."

"Yeah, yeah."

They both turned when a set of footsteps descended the stairs. Zachary came into the room, dressed in his usual black hoodie and light wash jeans. His light brown hair, almost an exact replica of the color of Kurt's hair, was shaggy and hung low on his forehead.

"Good morning, bud," Kurt said, laughing internally at how much he sounded like his own father. He made a mental note to call his dad later that day.

Zach looked around the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Cereal. Pick your own."

"Do we have any Cinnamon Toast Crunch left?"

"You'll have to check the pantry."

Kurt sipped his coffee and Blaine went back to the newspaper as Zach headed over to the pantry and searched for his cereal.

"Where's your sister?" Blaine asked.

"How should I know?"

Blaine met Kurt's eyes, raising his brows and having a silent conversation that said _He's having one of his mood swings today. _Kurt gave him a teasing look that said _You're the one who said he was the good kid. _Blaine sighed quietly and then glanced pointedly over at the stairs before raising his eyebrows again at Kurt, silently saying _And Rebecca still isn't down yet. I still say Zach's the good kid. _

Kurt laughed softly and shook his head, turning his attention back to his coffee. He took another sip before looking over to Zach, who was reaching for a bowl on the top shelf of a cabinet that he couldn't quite reach. Kurt got up and crossed the room, reaching for the bowl to help Zach, when he noticed something on Zach's arm. He paused, frowning, and grabbed for his son's arm.

"What is this?" he asked.

Zach pulled his arm away so quickly Kurt barely had time to process it. He tugged his jacket sleeve down and looked away. "It's nothing."

"It's nothing? Zachary, what was that?"

"I said it was nothing, okay? Leave me alone!"

Kurt bit his lip and glanced over at Blaine, who was now watching them with interest.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked.

"Nothing! God, why won't you guys ever leave me alone?" Zach stomped out of the room and back upstairs.

Blaine frowned. "Hon, what happened?"

Another set of footsteps on the stairs, and Kurt thought maybe Zach was coming back down, but Rebecca appeared in the doorway. She was holding her hairbrush and a ponytail.

"Papa, can you braid my hair?"

Blaine looked from Kurt to Rebecca and back to Kurt. Kurt shook his head, so Blaine turned back to his daughter and offered a smile. "Of course, sweetie. Come sit in your Dad's chair right here."

"Okay." She came over and sat in front of Blaine, handing him the brush and ponytail. He set to work combing through her long, black curls before separating it into three parts and braiding it. "What's for breakfast?"

"Cereal," Kurt said. He still looked concerned but he forced a smile for Rebecca. "Which kind do you want, honey? I'll fix you a bowl."

"Honey Nut Cheerios."

Kurt went to the pantry and grabbed the cereal, pouring it into a bowl and adding milk. Zach's Cinnamon Toast Crunch still sat on the counter. He took the bowl to the table and sat it down in front of Rebecca. "There you go."

Rebecca giggled. "Dad, I need a spoon."

"Oh. Right." Kurt grabbed her a spoon from the drawer and stuck it in the bowl.

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Blaine finished up the braid and wrapped it in the rubber band, then patted his daughter's back. "You're all set."

"Thanks, Papa!"

She turned in her chair and started eating.

Blaine and Kurt met eyes above her head and made a silent agreement to step out of the room for a moment. They went into the living room, glancing back into the kitchen to make sure Rebecca was still okay.

"What happened?" Blaine whispered.

"Zach's been cutting himself," Kurt answered. "They're not bad, but it's still a cause for concern."

Blaine's heart stopped in his chest. He nodded. "Right, yeah."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and squeezed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I, uh… I just didn't think about this being an issue for our kids, you know? I guess I'm just too close to it."

"They've seemed so happy. Rebecca can be moody, sure, but that's not surprising. And Zach's been quiet, but I just assumed it was because he was a shy kid. I didn't think he was unhappy."

"Kurt, you and I both know that this isn't just about happiness."

"I know," Kurt said. He sighed, drawing his hand up Blaine's arm, pushing the sleeve of his cardigan and letting his fingers trace over the long-ago healed scars. They were virtually impossible to see now, but to those who knew they were there, they were glaring. Kurt brought Blaine's wrist up and pressed his lips in a soft kiss to the skin.

"We have to talk to him," Blaine said. "We can't… He can't keep doing this to himself."

"I agree. But I think you should take the lead on this one, hon."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It's been, what, fifteen years now? I'm okay."

"Yes, but—"

"Kurt. Please. Don't push it, okay?"

Kurt blinked a few times in quick succession, looking down. He tugged Blaine's cardigan sleeve back down and dropped his hand. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"When did you want to talk to Zachary?"

"The sooner the better," Blaine said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, tonight?"

"Tonight."

"Okay. I gotta take the kids to school. What time will you be done at the hospital?"

Blaine shrugged. "I'm seeing some new clients today. It shouldn't be longer than any other work day, but it's a Thursday, so—"

"Oh, that's right. You're volunteering in the burn ward today. Okay, well, have a good day."

"I'll try."

Kurt smiled sympathetically and kissed his husband. "Zachary will be fine. I know this is scary, and I'm scared, too, but he'll get through this just like you did."

"I know. I just… I would never wish this kind of pain on anyone. Especially my own son."

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. I love you."

"Love you too. Don't let the bridezillas get you down."

Kurt kissed Blaine's cheek and went over to the stairs. "Zachary! It's time for school!" He headed into the kitchen and saw Rebecca still sitting at the table. "Bex, wash your bowl out and put it in the dishwasher. We gotta get going."

"Okay, Dad!"

Blaine grabbed his guitar from the floor in the living room and his keys from the end table by the door. "I'm heading out," Blaine said.

Kurt turned to him and smiled. "I'll see you tonight."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

… … …

Music therapy was not the direction Blaine had seen his career going when he was younger, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. It was the most rewarding work he could be doing. Kurt still liked to tease him about that drunken night back in high school where he declared he just wanted to make art and help people.

That's what he did. All day every day he spent his time at a few different hospitals around New York City, singing to kids and teens in the psychiatric wards, kids in comas, kids in the ICU. Every Tuesday and Thursday he made an extra trip to the burn ward and sang with them. He didn't just sing with the kids, though. There were some adults, too, that he sang to. Mainly coma patients but not always.

It was good work, but it did nothing to ease his mind from the issues with his son. There were a couple of girls on the psychiatric floor at his hospital that day that had attempted suicide and one of them had both wrists wrapped in gauze.

When he got home that evening, Kurt wasn't home yet, but Rebecca was sitting on the couch watching whatever new Disney show was running.

"Hey, babydoll. Where's your brother?"

"I don't know. Check his room."

"He wasn't here when you got home?"

"Maybe. If he was, he's being really quiet."

"Okay. Thanks, Bex."

Rebecca turned to smile at him. "You're welcome, Papa! Hey, what's for dinner?"

"We'll see when Dad gets home, okay?"

"Okay!"

Blaine looked up the stairs, considering whether to go up or not. He didn't want to talk to Zach without Kurt, but he knew that Kurt would be home any minute now anyway. He'd probably ask Rebecca where they were, and Rebecca would say up in Zach's room, and Kurt would know to come up. Blaine made the decision, dropping his guitar in its spot in the living room before heading upstairs. He heard music playing from Zachary's room.

"Zach?" Blaine knocked on the door. "Hey, it's Papa. Can I come in?"

"Sure," came Zach's quiet reply.

Blaine opened the door and stepped inside. "Hey, buddy. Whatcha doing?"

"Homework." Zach sat on his bed, a textbook open in front of him and a workbook open in his lap. Blaine came and sat on the edge of his bed.

"For what class?"

"Social studies. We have to do these workbook assignments sometimes."

"You need any help?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Alright." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, wondering whether to go back downstairs until Kurt got home, when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

He looked to the doorway, waiting to see who it was. Kurt appeared there, smiling slightly when he saw Blaine already on the bed. "Hey, honey. How was your day at work?"

Blaine smiled as Kurt came and gave him a kiss. "It was good. How were the bridezillas?"

"Tolerable today, actually."

"Really? That's good."

"Mmm. I know. How was your day, Zach?"

Zach glanced up from his homework and shrugged. "I don't know. Fine I guess."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look before Kurt went and closed Zach's bedroom door, joining them on the bed. "We'd like to talk to you about something, if that's okay. You wanna set the homework aside for a few minutes?"

"Um… Okay. Am I in trouble?"

Blaine gave his son a small smile. "No. You're not in trouble."

"Oh."

Having been in this situation before, Blaine knew that Zach had figured it out. He watched his son look down at his lap, tugging his hoodie sleeves down and clenching them in his fists.

Blaine reached out a hand and laid it on Zach's knee. "You know you can talk to us about anything, right? If you're unhappy, or going through something. Your dad and I are here for you."

"I know," Zach muttered.

"Is there anything you want to talk about, then?"

Zach shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Zach nodded.

Blaine sighed. "Zachary, you know what your dad saw this morning, don't you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Zach said.

"I know. I didn't want to talk about it either, when I was your age. But you have to. It's only gonna get worse if you don't."

Finally, Zach looked up at him. "W—What?"

Blaine looked over at Kurt, who smiled encouragingly and rubbed Blaine's upper back. He took a deep breath and said, "Zach, this is…never something that I wanted you to have to know about. I…I'd been hoping that this wouldn't be an issue for my kids, that I could give them a better life than my parents gave me, that they wouldn't feel the need to…" Blaine paused to take another deep, shaky breath.

"Papa, are you… What are you trying to tell me?"

Blaine bit his lip before shrugging out of his cardigan, letting his arms be bare in front of his son. "I know what you're going through, bud. You're not alone in this. Your dad helped me through it when I wasn't all that older than you, and both of us can help you now. You just have to open up to us, Zach. Tell us what's been going on. Because your dad and I, we thought we were doing well with you. What's going on?"

Zach's eyes were wide, and for a long moment he didn't say anything. He just _stared _at Blaine's arms, occasionally glancing up between his dads.

"It's okay," Kurt said. "You can talk to us."

"I…" Zach gulped, fiddling with the hem of his jacket sleeve. "It's not you guys."

"What do you—?" Kurt started to ask, but Blaine held his hand up and shook his head.

Zach glanced up again before continuing. "You guys are great. I love having you as my parents. It's, um… It's the kids at school."

"What are they doing, Zach?" Blaine asked softly.

"I dunno. They just…ignore me. They never invite me to hang out, and then they come to school talking about all the parties and stuff. But I never get invited. And I thought high school was supposed to be better than middle school, but it still sucks. I don't have any friends. Everyone thinks I'm a loser and they won't talk to me. They make fun of me in class all the time and throw paper balls at me and it just sucks, okay? I'm, like, totally alone, and I just feel like…"

"Like you don't matter?" Blaine supplied. "Like it doesn't matter if you hurt yourself, because no one cares anyway? Because you can't possibly hurt yourself more than those kids are hurting you?"

Zach's eyes grew wide again, like he still couldn't comprehend that his papa understood. "Yeah."

Blaine sat forward on the bed, scooting closer to Zach. "That's not true. You matter, and you hurting yourself isn't okay. There are still people who care about you. Your dad and I love you and Bex more than anything in the world. We care that you're doing this to yourself."

"We want to help you, Zach," Kurt added. "We want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Zach said.

Blaine gave him a half-smile. "But you're also unhappy, too. You're both at the same time, aren't you?"

Zach thought about it for a second before nodding. "Yeah."

"And I'm sure that makes you feel like you're okay. Like you don't need help, because you're okay most of the time. Like this is just a little thing and it's not that big of a deal. Am I in the right ballpark here?"

Zach took a deep breath and nodded again.

Blaine looked over at Kurt. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Sure," Kurt said, smiling. He leaned forward and gave Blaine a kiss on the mouth, then gave Zach a kiss on the forehead. "I'll go start dinner."

"Thanks, babe."

Once Kurt had slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him, Blaine squeezed Zach's knee. "Look, you don't have to show me. I know how uncomfortable it is for people to see. But if you're okay with it, I'd really like for you to take off your jacket so I can make sure they're not infected or anything."

"They're not," Zach said.

"I'd still like to make sure. If that's okay."

Zach licked his lips, hesitating. After a minute, he unzipped his hoodie and slipped it off his shoulders, tugging his arms out. He didn't hold them out, but he didn't cross them either. Blaine reached out and grabbed his wrist gently, turning his arm up to see.

His heart broke to see his child's arms covered in scars that matched his own. These were new, though. They stood out, raised and scabbed over, a bright red to contrast the paleness of Zach's forearm. Blaine bit back tears and tried to focus on his son.

He scooted forward on the bed again and wrapped his arms around Zach's body, bringing him in for a hug. Zach tensed for a moment before relaxing in his papa's arms, wrapping them around his waist. Blaine felt Zach's body start to shake and heard him sniffle and knew he'd started crying, so Blaine just held him tighter, rubbing his back.

"It's gonna be okay," Blaine assured him. "It's all gonna be okay. I promise. Your dad and I are going to get you help. I know it sounds awful and extreme, but we'll find you a good therapist. Louis, my therapist from when I was younger, helped me a lot. We'll make sure you feel better, okay? You don't have to go through this alone anymore."

Zach nodded against his Blaine's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't know what else to do," he cried.

"It's okay. Shhh, I know, it's okay. Just know that I'm here for you. You can come to me about this and I will understand you."

Zach hiccuped and wiped at his eyes as he pulled away. "Okay."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "I love you, Zachary. So very much. I don't want you to ever feel unloved."

"I love you too."

Blaine kissed the top of Zach's head before standing up. "I'm going to go see if your Dad needs help with dinner. Do you wanna come downstairs with me or finish up your homework?"

"I'll just finish my homework."

"Alright. I'll call you down when dinner's ready."

"Papa?"

Blaine turned around at the door. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, son. I'm always here for you."

Zach nodded.

Downstairs, Rebecca was still on couch in front of the TV. Blaine stopped at the archway and said, "Rebecca, do you have any homework?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No."

Blaine raised his eyebrows at her. "Rebecca, if I get another letter sent home from your teachers about not doing homework there will be consequences."

She paused for a second before hopping up from the couch and grabbing her backpack from by the door. "I just remembered I have a couple math worksheets to do."

"Yeah, how convenient that you just remembered."

"I forgot!"

"Uh-huh."

Blaine headed into the kitchen. Kurt stood at the stove, stirring a big pot of noodles. He looked up when Blaine walked in.

"Hey. How'd the rest of it go?"

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. "It was…hard. But he's gonna be okay. I told him we'd get him in therapy and he didn't argue so he's already better than I was."

Kurt turned from the stove and slipped his arms around his husband's waist. "Are you okay?"

"Please stop asking me that."

"I just want to make sure, Blaine. I know how hard this was for you when you were younger, and to see your son going through it now…"

"He's your son, too."

"I know. And it breaks my heart. But it's different for me than it is for you, isn't it?"

Blaine sighed. "Yeah, it is."

"I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

"I'm not going to start again, if that's what you're worried about. This is hard for me but it's a lot harder for Zachary and I'd rather focus on him. I want to make sure he's okay. I'm not worried about me."

"Well I'm worried about both of you," Kurt insisted. "You'll talk to me, right?"

"I will. Not right now, though. Rebecca's in the other room. We can talk about it later, okay? After the kids go to sleep."

"Okay." Kurt leaned forward and pecked Blaine on the lips. "I love you, Blaine."

"I love you too."

Kurt let go and turned back to the stove, focusing on a pan with shrimp in it. "I'm making shrimp scampi for dinner."

"Sounds good," Blaine said absently.

His mind was still upstairs in his son's room, comparing self-harm scars. He shut his eyes and willed himself not to cry.

"We're going to get through this, hon," Kurt said, touching Blaine's shoulder.

"Yeah, I know, I just—I need a minute. I'll be right back, okay?"

Before Kurt had a chance to answer, Blaine left the room, heading down the hall to their master bedroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut.

The weight of everything finally fell on him. His son's struggles and his own. It felt like so much, and Blaine didn't know what to do. When he was much younger, years and years ago, he knew exactly what he would've done in that situation. He knew exactly what he would do to make himself feel better. To feel calm and in control. But the thought that his son could be upstairs doing that same thing in that same moment made Blaine shudder.

Alone in his room, he finally let himself cry.


	56. The Code

_A fill for Blangst Prompt of the Day #771: AU, While helping Blaine move out of the loft, Kurt mentions in passing to Sam that Blaine went to the Statue of Liberty. Sam immediately begins freaking out. 'The Statue of Liberty' is Blaine's code phrase for having suicidal thoughts. Its the phrase Sam made Blaine agree to use since he knows his friend often has a hard time reaching out for help._

… … …

The mattress is a lot heavier than it looks and Kurt huffs as, struggling to keep his end up. He's been working out recently, sure, and it's going pretty good, but the mattress is filled with special material because Blaine's got a bad back from his beating at Sadie Hawkins and it's a lot heavier to carry than the average mattress.

Sam's holding up the other side, grinning like it's nothing. "Have you hit the stairs yet?"

"Not yet," Kurt says, adjusting his hold. "Tell me why I'm the one going backwards."

"Because your end will be lighter that way. Gravity and all that. I'm gonna be carrying most of the weight."

Kurt frowns, thinking it over. "That actually makes a small bit of sense."

"Thanks!"

Kurt's heel hits against something hard and he glances over his shoulder. "Okay, we've hit the stairwell. What floor do you guys live on again?"

"Just the second."

"Thank god."

Kurt takes each step slowly, fumbling to carry the mattress and climb up the stairs backwards at the same time. They're almost at the top of the stairs when Sam asks, "Where is Blaine, again?"

"Oh, he said he was going to the Statue of Liberty," Kurt says, eyes fixed over his shoulder to watch the steps. The mattress suddenly becomes twice as heavy and Kurt glances back to Sam, who's dropped his end. "Hey, what're you doing? We're almost at the landing."

"What exactly did Blaine say to you?"

"He said he was gonna go for a walk before he came to help us move the last of his stuff and that he was thinking of going to the Statue of Liberty. I would've argued and told him to get his cute butt over here and help but he seemed upset so I let it go."

"Damn it." Sam runs a hand through his hair and looks around.

Kurt frowns. "What? What's wrong?"

Sam just shakes his head. "God damn it. I thought… _Damn _it."

"What? He goes there all the time; it's not a big deal."

"How often?" Sam demands, focusing on Kurt. "How often does he go?"

"I don't know. A couple times a week?"

"Fuck!"

"_Sam_! What is your problem?"

"It's a code!" Sam sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. "Shit, it's a code. I didn't think he was gonna need it here. I thought when he got to be with you all the time, he'd be fine. I thought with you guys back together, he wouldn't need it anymore. Damn it, why is he using it with you and not me? He knows you don't know it."

Kurt tries his best to keep his patience and asks, "Sam, what is the code for?"

"It means he's having suicidal thoughts. We set it up last year after you guys broke up. He was in real bad shape, but he wouldn't ever ask for help because he's stubborn and insists on pretending he's fine. So I told him that he could just tell me a code word or phrase to let me know if he was really struggling and I would come over and we would play video games and pig out on junk food to help distract him."

It takes a moment for the words to really sink in, but once they do, Kurt's knees buckle under him. He finally drops his side of the mattress, letting his legs give out and sitting on the top step. He blinks at Sam. "S—Suicidal thoughts?"

Sam nods. "Yeah."

"Then he shouldn't be alone right now, should he? We have to find him, don't we?"

Sam bites his lip, looking around for an answer. "I don't know. When we were in Ohio it made sense, but here in New York, he really could be at the Statue of Liberty. But I definitely think you should call him."

"Right."

Kurt fishes in his pocket, pulling out his phone and dialing Blaine's number. It rings and rings and rings.

_"Hi, you've reached Blaine Anderson. I can't answer the phone right now, but—"_

"He didn't pick up," Kurt says, frowning. "That's a bad sign, isn't it?"

"Usually, yeah."

They stay on the stairs, thinking about their next move. Kurt runs his hands up and down his legs. He jumps when Sam kicks the mattress, coming back to reality.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Kurt says. "We're going to take this mattress into the apartment and dump it in the living room, and then we're going to go look for Blaine."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

They both bend down and grab the mattress again, hauling it up the last of the stairs and dropping it in the living room. Mercedes is out, so it's just the two of them in the apartment. Kurt tries calling Blaine again but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Do you have any idea where he'd go?" Kurt asks, looking to Sam.

Sam shrugs. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, dude. You're his fiancé."

"And you're his best friend." Sam just shrugs again and Kurt sighs. "I guess we're both at a loss then. Let's just start at the actual Statue of Liberty."

"What if he's not there?"

"Then we figure it out, Sam, but right now we need to do _something. _I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to get home, not if he's not safe."

"You're right," Sam says, nodding. "I just—normally he tells me and I head straight over and— He's not following routine. I don't know what to do."

"Well, let's go get on the subway and head over to the Statue of Liberty and take it from there. I just—I just want to find him."

Kurt heads out of the apartment without another word, trusting Sam to be behind him. They make their way to the nearest subway station and wait for the right train to take them where they need to go. It takes almost an hour, and the entire time Kurt's mind is racing.

Why didn't he know about this? Why had Blaine never told him? Why had _Sam _never told him? How many times in the past week, the past month, had Blaine said he was going to the Statue of Liberty? How many of those times were after they'd had a fight? Had Blaine ever acted on these thoughts? Had he ever held a blade to his wrist, held a gun in his hand, filled his palm with dozens of pills?

There hadn't been any scars on Blaine's body, not that Kurt had seen, and he'd spent hours upon hours recently studying every curve, every dip, every plane of Blaine's body. There was no way he would've missed them, if they were there. He nods to himself and considers that a good sign.

Good enough, at least.

There was still the matter of _Blaine not saying anything. _They were engaged, for god's sake, and Blaine didn't feel the need to ever mention that he'd had suicidal thoughts? Kurt doesn't consider himself an expert on marriage, but he's pretty sure that's the kind of thing you tell your spouse-to-be.

"How bad is it?" he asks as they exit the train.

Sam turns to him as they climb the stairs to get back up to the city. "How bad is what?"

"His depression, his suicidal thoughts, whatever it is that's going on with him. How bad is it?"

"I dunno."

"How do you not know? You're the only one who knows about this."

"No I'm not. The whole glee club knows."

Kurt stops on the sidewalk, frowning at him. "What?"

"Dude, the whole glee club knows. Well, the ones that were there last year."

"How does everyone know but me?"

"Blaine was having a really hard time when you guys broke up, dude. Even I noticed how messed up he was and I'm, well, me. When we came up with the code, he didn't use it for a while, and then the first time he did, it was…not pretty. He called me and his voice was all shaky and he was just like, 'I _really _want to go to the Statue of Liberty right now.' And at first I'd forgotten about our code and I was all, 'Dude, we're in Ohio.' And then he kind of pushed and I understood and… It was the first time he actually asked for help, so I knew it was probably really bad, so I sent an SOS text to all of New Directions and said we were having a slumber party at your house. I told Finn it was to bond with the new kids so he was on board; your dad saw right through me—by the way, dude, your dad will always scare me, even if I lived with him for over a year—but when Blaine showed up, he let it go."

"My dad never said anything about it," Kurt says. His heart is hammering away in his chest and he tries to think back to when his dad would've mentioned something like this, but he comes up with nothing.

Sam nods. "Yeah, Blaine asked him not to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because he knew you wouldn't care."

Kurt opens his mouth to argue, but then he thinks back to where he was when he and Blaine had broken up. He ignored all of Blaine's texts, all of his calls, all of his emails and gifts and messages. There was no way he would've bothered to listen to Blaine long enough to hear how bad he was doing.

"Look, no offense, but we're wasting time talking about this. Blaine needs our help. You guys can talk it out later but right now I wanna make sure my best friend is okay."

"Right, yeah," Kurt says, shaking his head and trying to focus. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just—this is a lot for me to take in all at once."

"I know. You and Blaine need to sit down and have a serious talk when we find him."

"Yeah. Yeah, we do."

Sam starts walking down the sidewalk and Kurt hurries to catch up with him, struggling to focus on the situation at hand and not get caught up in everything else. There is _so much _happening and Kurt feels blind-sighted, but he can't let that get to him. Blaine is somewhere right now, hating himself or his life and thinking about ending it all, and this makes no sense to Kurt. He can't make that fit with the images he has of Blaine, his happy and smiling fiancé.

He knows that the move to New York hasn't exactly been easy for Blaine, but he didn't think it had been so hard that he'd come to this.

"Is this because of me?" Kurt asks as they walk.

Sam throws him a glance and sighs. "Seriously, Kurt, this is a conversation you need to have with Blaine."

"What if we don't find him?"

"We'll find him. If nothing else, he'll text one of us when he's ready."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will, okay? I've been handling this; I know how he works when he's like this."

Kurt tries not to let that sting. He tries not to let it get to him that there is a whole side of Blaine that he doesn't know still. Even after all this time. And it's a side that he's let Sam see, and Artie, and Tina, and a whole bunch of sophomores they're not even friends with, not really. But Kurt has never seen it.

He really tries not to let it sting. But it does.

When they reach the Statue of Liberty, they scan the grounds first. There's no way Blaine would've been allowed to the top or even at the pedestal level. He'd have to have purchased tickets ahead of time, Kurt knows, and he thinks this was kind of a spontaneous thing.

"Do you see him?" Kurt asks.

Sam shakes his head. "No. You?"

"No."

"Should you call him again?"

"Maybe you should try. If this is a thing between you and him, he may pick up for you."

Sam throws Kurt a sad look and pulls out his phone. He holds it to his ear, waiting, and Kurt bounces where he stands. After a long moment, Sam shakes his head. "He didn't answer me either."

"Where should we go next?"

"I have no idea."

They end up going to a few of Blaine's favorite places. His usual spot in Central Park that he likes to go to and read or do homework, his preferred coffee shop, the NYU library, the bakery where he'd recently discovered cronuts. Blaine was nowhere to be found and he wasn't answering his phone.

Kurt goes crazy all day long. They have to find him, they _have _to, but they've looked everywhere and he can't think of anywhere else to check. By the time it's dark outside, Kurt suggests they go back to his loft to wait there. There's nowhere else to check, really, and if Blaine decides to go there when he's done wherever he is, Kurt wants to be home for him.

Except when he and Sam get back to the loft, Blaine is there, laying down on the couch and snoring.

"Oh, thank god," Kurt breathes out, racing over to the couch and sitting on the edge at Blaine's hips. He shakes Blaine gently, trying to wake him. "Blaine? Blaine, honey?"

Blaine takes a deep breath in through his nose and stretches. "Hmm? What?"

"Blaine, where have you been all day?"

He frowns, squinting his eyes at Kurt. "Here."

"Why?"

"I went back to my apartment after my walk, but you and Sam weren't there, so I came here to check if you guys were grabbing something I'd forgotten, but you weren't here, either. But I was tired so I decided to take a nap. What time is it?"

"It's almost nine o'clock."

"Oh. That's not a nap, that's a coma. Oops."

"Did you actually go to the Statue of Liberty? Or were you using the code?"

Blaine's face changes. His whole body tenses and he sits up a little. "How do you know about that?" He turns and his eyes fall on Sam by the front door. "Sam?"

"Dude, I had to. Kurt said you went to the Statue of Liberty and I kinda freaked a little."

Blaine sighs and falls back against the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes. "Thanks, Sam."

"You so can't blame me for this, bro. You should've told Kurt and you know it."

"That's my point, Sam. _I _should've told him. Not you."

"Well it's not my fault you didn't tell him sooner!"

"Guys," Kurt says, breaking the argument before it can truly start. "You two can hash this out later. Right now, Sam, I'd appreciate some time alone with Blaine. Thank you for your help today, really, but I need to talk to him alone."

Sam nods, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you do. Text me later, Blaine."

"Will do," Blaine sighs, exasperated.

After Sam slides the loft door shut behind him, Kurt turns back to Blaine. "Is Rachel home?"

"I don't know; I've been asleep."

"Rachel?" Kurt calls. Silence answers him. "Good. Because you and I need to have a serious talk."

Blaine looks down, avoiding eye contact as he sits up, tugging his knees to his chest. "What do you know?"

"I know that if you mention the Statue of Liberty it's code for you wanting to kill yourself."

"It's not like that," Blaine says. "It's… It just means the thought is on my mind. It's not something I'd actively do. I wouldn't put a gun to my head or stand on a ledge or slit my wrists. It just means that I'm having bad thoughts, and it's not that I want to die, it's just that I don't want to live, either."

"Why wouldn't you tell me about this?"

"Because it started when we broke up and you weren't speaking to me."

"Yeah, Sam said that. He said the entirety of New Directions knows. So I'm just kind of wondering why a bunch of sophomores we don't know very well know something deeply personal about you that I don't."

"I know them," Blaine says, glancing up at Kurt. "You may not know them, but I do. They're my friends. Ryder, Jake, Sam, Artie, and I used to get together and have Mario Kart tournaments. Marley, Kitty, Tina, and Unique would take me to the mall with them for my opinion on clothes shopping."

"Were those things when you were feeling suicidal? For distraction?"

"No, Kurt. It was just for fun."

Kurt sighs and places a hand on his knee. "Why wouldn't you tell me about this?" he asks again. "We're getting married, Blaine. There shouldn't be any secrets between us. Especially something like this."

"I didn't want you to blame yourself. I thought that if you knew, you'd think it was your fault."

"It's not, is it?"

Blaine shakes his head. "No. It's not."

"Then what is it? What happened? Because I—I'm not understanding. Sam told me that things were really bad for you after our break up, and I get that, but I thought things were better now. We're back together, and you're here, and maybe things have been kind of rocky but we've been working through it, I thought. I can't reconcile this idea of you being suicidal with the happy, smiling man I see every day."

"Kurt, I can smile and be happy and still have bad days; still have times where I question if it's all worth it."

"But I still don't understand why you wouldn't tell me."

"Because I knew you'd do this," Blaine says, pushing up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. "I knew you'd over analyze everything and interrogate me and want to understand every little detail. Kind of exactly what you're doing right now."

"Well of course I would. This is a big deal; it's important."

"It is what it is, Kurt. Sometimes I feel bad, so I text Sam our code, and he comes over and keeps me company."

"Except you didn't text Sam this time. You told me, knowing that I didn't know the code. Why?"

"Because I was actually going to the Statue of Liberty. Sam and I need to change the code now that we're in New York, I guess."

"How about you don't have a code at all?" Kurt asks, standing up from the couch. He walks over to Blaine and takes his hand. "How about if you feel bad, you tell me? You say, 'Kurt, I feel bad and I need the comfort of another person's presence.' That's what I'm here for, Blaine. I'm here to give you comfort and to show you love and to be your support. I understand that you had a support system back in Ohio, when we weren't together, but we are now. I need you to tell me this kind of stuff; I need you to let me be there for you."

Blaine worries his bottom lip between his teeth and nods, looking down at their hands. "I'll try. I just—I'm not good at this. Letting people help."

"You let Sam help. And everyone else in the New Directions."

"Because Sam pushed me. I didn't want to, but he pushed me and he took my secret and made it privy to the whole group. If it had been up to me, no one would've known, but Sam decided I needed more help and told everyone. I didn't get a say in that."

"Oh," Kurt says, because it's all he can say.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I got over it, I'm… This is old stuff, Kurt."

"How old?"

"I don't know. Months. Maybe five or six?"

Kurt's eyebrows furrow. "That's not old, Blaine. That's recent. That's within the year."

"Well it's old for me. Six months is a long time for me to go without having a bad day. Can we maybe stop talking about this so I don't lose six months of progress?"

"Is this conversation making you feel bad?"

"No, but it's bringing up bad memories."

Kurt bites his lip. There's so much he wants to know; he has so many more questions he wants to ask. But he knows that Blaine's losing his patience. He can tell by the shape of Blaine's eyebrows and the set of his jaw. Kurt has gotten as much information out of Blaine as he's going to get tonight.

"If we drop the conversation," Kurt starts, bringing up a hand to cup Blaine's cheek, "if we let it go for now and just cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, will you promise me we can continue it later? Because despite what you may think, this is a big deal, and I need to know about it."

Blaine's nostrils flare as he takes in a deep breath, then nods. "Yeah. Yes, if you agree to let it go now, I promise we can have a long conversation about it soon."

"Okay. Hot chocolate or tea?"

"Cocoa, please," Blaine says, lips quirking up in a smile. "With cinnamon and nutmeg."

"Coming right up. Go pick a movie," Kurt says, kissing Blaine on the cheek and letting go of his hand.

Blaine holds on tighter, though, pulling Kurt back and into a hug. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this before. I know you deserved to know, I just…"

"I know," Kurt tells him, rubbing his upper back. "I know. It's okay. You don't have to explain. No more tonight, right?"

"Right," Blaine says. He pulls back and gives Kurt a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"Of course."

Blaine lets go and goes over to the floor by the TV where they've haphazardly stacked their DVDs. Kurt sets about making the hot cocoa when Blaine shouts, "Oh! Don't forget the—"

"Whipped cream, I know," Kurt says, grabbing it from the fridge.

Blaine smiles and turns back to the DVDs.

Making hot cocoa is a good distraction for Kurt. He focuses on warming the milk and setting out the cocoa packet, the mini marshmallows, the cinnamon and nutmeg and whipped cream. He picks Blaine's favorite mug—the one that's painted to look like R2D2—and grabs a plain one for himself. When he's mixed the cocoa just as Blaine likes it and brings it over, Blaine is set up on the couch in a blanket, the DVD menu for _Moulin Rouge _playing.

"An excellent choice," Kurt says.

Blaine takes his mug and licks at the whipped cream. "Thank you."

Kurt stares openly. "No, thank you."

Blaine pauses for a moment, throwing Kurt a weird look, before seeming to catch on and rolling his eyes. "Perv."

"Tease."

Blaine only shakes his head and presses the play button on the remote.

The movie plays for a few minutes, and Kurt fidgets, trying to get comfortable under the blanket. He sets his mug on the coffee table and wraps his arms around Blaine, pulling him in. After a minute, he can't help himself.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you…just one more question? About the Statue of Liberty thing?"

"…Alright."

"You really did just go there today? That wasn't you using the code? You actually went to the literal Statue of Liberty?"

"Yes. I went to the literal Statue of Liberty today. I bought a ticket to go to the crown a few weeks ago; it's something I've been wanting to do since I got here. I didn't anticipate moving today or I would've bought the ticket for another day."

"Oh, your mattress is still in your living room. I forgot all about it. Mercedes isn't going to be happy."

"She and Sam probably moved it upstairs when they got home."

"That was the last thing, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, all of my other stuff is already over there."

Kurt presses a soft kiss to Blaine's temple. "You know that just because you officially live there doesn't mean you're not welcome here, right? I still expect you to hang out and spend the night here on a relatively frequent basis."

"It's a good thing I left some of my clothes and a spare toothbrush here then."

"Yes, it is," Kurt says, smiling.

He wants to ask about the code again, and the suicidal thoughts, and what exactly a "bad day" means for Blaine, but he knows the conversation is off-limits for the night. Instead, Kurt settles for pulling Blaine closer, holding him tighter, and knowing he's safe there in his arms.

"I love you," he says, because it's true.

Blaine smiles at him and snuggles further into his arms. "I love you too."


	57. Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles

_Summary: Recourse, Part 9. Kurt deals with Blaine's bullies at school while he tries to get back to some sense of normal life with Santana as Blaine is in the hospital. Bonus Andersons._

_Anon prompt for this part: Can I prompt something for the bulimic!blaine verse where maybe Kurt is back in classes at NYADA and the people that had been giving Blaine a hard time start asking Kurt where he is, like saying it's good that he's finally given up with NYADA and stuff, and Kurt just snaps and yells at them?_

_Note: The monologue Kurt uses in this piece is from a play called __Dog Sees God: Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead __by Bert V. Royal. I recommend it to everyone. It's very heavy, though, so be prepared._

… … …

Bad days happen. Kurt told himself this over and over again throughout the day, trying to keep a level head. Bad days happen and he'd get through it.

It started when Cooper came knocking loudly on the front door of the loft at seven in the morning. Kurt rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Santana, and wiped a hand down his face as he made his way to the front door. He slid it open and gave Cooper the best bitch face he could muster only moments after waking up.

"What do you want?" Kurt asked.

Cooper smiled and shoved his way past Kurt into the loft. "I thought I'd come by and see where my baby brother lives."

"At seven in the morning?"

"No time like the present. Plus, Blainers kicked me out of the hospital room when a nurse came in to sponge bathe him."

"Oh. Yeah, he hates that." Kurt slid the door shut and resigned himself to having company. "Do you want coffee?"

"That would be really great, Kurt! Thank you!"

Kurt nodded and headed over to the coffee maker, setting some to brew. "So why are you really here?" he asked, throwing Cooper a look over his shoulder.

Cooper shrugged, walking around the coffee table before sitting on the couch, throwing his arms over the back. "Just came to see where Blaine lives. That's all. It's nice, by the way. Has a lot of character."

"I hate to break it to you, Cooper, but you're not as good of an actor as you think you are. So you can cut the act."

"Someone's bitchy in the morning," Cooper said, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sorry. Haven't had a chance to actually wake up or drink my coffee yet."

"Yeah, I thought about calling, but then I just...didn't."

Kurt turned back to the coffee pot, watching it fill. When it had enough, he pulled it out and poured two mugs full, then set it back. "How do you take it?"

"Do you have organic almond soy creamer?"

Kurt gave him a look. "This isn't LA. I have milk."

"Milk will work," Cooper said, coming into the kitchen and fixing his coffee.

Given that it looked like it was going to be a long day, Kurt simply added a tablespoon of sugar and a splash of milk. He leaned against the counter and raised his eyebrows at Cooper. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"When did this start?" Cooper asked.

"What?"

"Everything with Blaine. The-the throwing up, and the hurting himself, and the depression. When did this start?"

Kurt looked down into his mug. "About a year ago," he said quietly, taking a sip of coffee.

"A _year _ago?" Cooper asked. He set his coffee on the counter and turned to face Kurt fully, frowning. "You let this go on for a _year_?"

"It's not that simple, Cooper."

"You know what? It is. It's as simple as my baby brother hurting for a year and you standing by doing _nothing."_

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about," Kurt said, setting down his mug next to Cooper's.

"Really? Because from where I'm standing, my little brother is in the hospital recovering from brain surgery with an arm and leg that may never work properly again, and you're standing here drinking coffee and going about your life as if nothing happened."

"_Excuse me?"_

"So I guess I'm just wondering, where were you, huh? Where have you been this whole time? Because it looks to me like you've been doing nothing for Blaine."

"I have been doing _everything _for him," Kurt spat. "I've been talking to him and making sure he feels loved and cared for. I got him a therapist and helped him through adjusting to his antidepressants, which was a lot harder than it sounds because it made him nauseous, which gave him a panic attack. So I sat with him on that bathroom floor for hours every day for two weeks while he sobbed into my shoulder, terrified that he was going to throw up and hating himself because he wanted to." Kurt shook his head, picking up his coffee and taking a long drink from it. "You don't know anything about this."

Cooper stared at Kurt for a long moment, arms crossed over his chest. Finally, he let them down, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "They moved him to the psych floor this morning."

"What?" Kurt asked, perking up. "They did?"

"Yeah."

"I thought he wasn't going for another few days."

"Dr. Pierce said he's healed enough to be moved. They took off the bandages from his head."

"How bad is the bald spot?"

"Not as bad as he'd been anticipating," Cooper said.

"Is he gonna shave the rest of his head?"

"I don't think so."

Kurt nodded. "Good." He let a moment of silence pass, thinking of Blaine and how he'd handle being moved to the psych floor. "When can I see him? Did they say?"

"Not for a few days. They want him to get used to the people there and focus on himself first. Blaine told me to tell you that he'd call when he was allowed to have visitors, and that he loves you and misses you. He said he's going to try his best to get better in there so he can come home to you."

Kurt couldn't help but smile. Even when Blaine was going through the hardest time of his life, he made sure word got back to Kurt that he loved him. Blaine had been trying over the past few days to make sure their romance hadn't died. It was sweet, really, but Kurt thought there were more important things to focus on, like Blaine's mental health.

"Thank you. For passing along the message."

"You're welcome."

They stood in silence again until Kurt glanced over to the clock on the wall by the door. "Well, I have class in an hour and a half, so I'd better start getting ready. Thanks for dropping by, Cooper. Even if you didn't really have a reason to."

"I did," Cooper said, grabbing Kurt's arm to keep him from walking off. "I did have a reason."

Kurt glanced down at Cooper's hand on his bicep then raised his eyebrows at him. "Was that reason to berate me for not taking good enough care of Blaine? Because you've already done that."

"No, it, uh... Look, my parents are driving me crazy. Can I crash here?"

"You came to see if you could stay here?"

"Yeah. I just... I feel really bad. That Blaine got this bad and I didn't know. I should've been there for him, you know? Should've answered the phone, or picked it up myself. I just want to stay here, get a feel for his life, try to understand what went through his head when he stepped in front of that car."

"It'll never make sense," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I've been trying to understand for a year and I still can't figure it out. But you're welcome to stay here, if you want. You can have the couch."

"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out."

Kurt shrugged. "It's not a big deal. How long do you think you'll be here?"

"I don't know. A week or two, maybe. I want to be here when Blaine comes home, if that's okay."

"I think he'll be in there longer than a week or two," Kurt said, sighing. "Dr. Pierce said Blaine would probably be in there for three or four weeks. Just to make sure he's reached a stable enough mental state to come home and be safe. We don't want this to happen again."

"Right, yeah. Um, well, I'll just play it by ear then, if that's okay."

"Fine by me. Santana and Rachel still have to weigh in but I don't think they'll mind."

Cooper flashed a bright smile. "Don't worry about Rachel. She won't have any problem with me staying here. She's one of my biggest fans."

"I hate to break it to you, Cooper, but you don't have fans."

"Ouch. You've had time to wake up and have coffee and you're still pretty snarky, Kurt."

"If you're going to be staying here you'd better get used to it," Kurt told him. He pried Cooper's hand off his arm and said, "I really do need to get ready. Make yourself at home."

Kurt disappeared into his room without another word, sitting on the edge of his bed. He took a deep breath and ran his hands down his thighs and squeezed his knees. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Santana was still asleep. He shut his eyes and tried to steady himself, to center and regroup and get into a good head space for the day.

It was impossible, though. His day had started with a hard awakening. Loud knocking on the door, Cooper reminding him how much he'd screwed up with Blaine, how he'd screwed everything up, bringing up feelings he'd been trying his hardest to keep away, telling him that he couldn't see Blaine again for the foreseeable future. There was no way Kurt was going to come back from that.

His day was just going to suck.

Resigned to his life, Kurt got up and grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom. He took a shower and got dressed, not even caring to check if his clothes matched or not, and grabbed his book bag on the way out. "I'll see you later," he said.

Cooper looked up from the couch and smiled. "Later, little brother-in-law."

"Not yet, Coop."

"Soon enough."

Kurt slid the loft door open and headed to school.

Which he was late to, because his morning had been thrown off by Cooper's presence, which meant Kurt missed is usual train, which made him late to his intermediate drama course, which made his professor angry, which resulted in Kurt having to go first in presenting his monologue, only having time to set down his bag before going to the front of the room to perform.

All of the students were staring at him, attentive, waiting. He was used to this by now, having taken several acting classes, but it still unnerved him. The professor gave him a hard look and gestured with her hand, pushing him to go.

Kurt nodded and looked down, taking a deep breath, and then looked up and began.

"Fuck you, CB! I'd rather you say 'we beat the shit out of you because we can't stand you' than to say you're just 'messing' with me! That implies light teasing or slightly opprobrious behavior. I haven't had lunch in the cafeteria in two and a half years for fear of going home with some part of it smeared across my shirt! I haven't been in a bathroom on campus since the time my head got slammed into the wall. I believe you were there... You know what I'm so sick of hearing? 'They only pick on you because of their own insecurities.' The classic guidance counselor line! 'Oh geez, Mrs. Blank, since you put it that way, my head doesn't hurt so much anymore!' And what really kills me is that everybody wonders why kids bring guns to school and shoot you fuckers down. Maybe you're not the bully, but you stand idly by and watch. In my eyes that makes you even worse."

By the time he finished his monologue, the tears in his eyes were all too real. They spilled over and he shook his head, biting his lip. There was a smattering of awkward applause.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," he said, grabbing his book bag and racing out of the room.

He collapsed against the wall right outside the classroom, sliding down and letting his head fall on his knees. He cried in earnest, thinking of Blaine and how he must have felt every day. Kurt knew it was happening, he knew how bad the kids were, and he didn't do anything. He didn't go to Madame Tibideaux, he didn't file formal complaints, he didn't alert the professors. He could tell himself he did his best all day long but he knew he didn't. He followed Blaine's lead, too scared to push too far, when he should've taken charge of the situation.

And now Blaine may never walk the same again. His arm might never work correctly and he might need help carrying things or reaching them if they're above chest level. He might need to walk with a cane for the rest of his life, or a walker. He might never dance again.

Kurt thought of Blaine, smiling and dancing around the kitchen as they cooked their first official meal of living together. Back when things were good. Back when they were happy.

He cried harder.

Someone touched his shoulder and Kurt looked up, blinking through his tears. Diane was crouching in front of him, smiling sadly.

"Hey," she said.

He sniffed, wiping his eyes. "Hey."

"That was some pretty good acting in there, buddy." Kurt's breath hitched and she sighed. "Unless it wasn't acting at all. How is he?"

News spread fast that Blaine had been hit by a car. There were dozens of rumors surrounding the circumstances but none had been accurate, so Kurt usually tuned them out.

"He's fine," Kurt said, avoiding details.

"Is he gonna make a full recovery?"

"We don't know yet."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Diane pursed her lips. "Is he-can I go visit him? Maybe with Clare?"

"He's not allowed visitors right now," Kurt said, looking away. "He's, um..."

"Is he getting help? For the...other stuff?"

Kurt met her eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," she said.

Kurt offered a smile and wondered why he'd never hung out with her before. He supposed that maybe if Blaine had been better, he would've had more time to focus on making other friends, but that wasn't true and he knew it. He couldn't blame everything on Blaine's mental illness.

Wordlessly, Diane crawled across the floor and sat next to Kurt, leaning her head back against the wall. She placed her hand over his and squeezed.

Yeah. He needed to make more of an effort with her. She was a really good person.

Their class let out about half an hour later, the students staring down at Kurt and Diane as they passed. Most of the students ignored them completely, but one of them stopped and stared down at them.

"Hey, you're Blaine's boyfriend, right?" he asked.

"Fiancé," Kurt corrected, bristling. He already didn't like the guy's tone.

"Right, yeah. Where is he these days? Haven't seen him around. Did he finally give up and drop out?"

"No," Kurt said, clenching his jaw. "He'll be back next semester."

"Damn. Hey, will you pass on a message for me? Tell him not to bother. It's a good thing his talentless fat ass is gone. The place is already looking a little brighter."

Kurt pushed up and took a couple steps toward the guy. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Nothing, man. Just glad to see your worthless boyfriend gone."

"Say one more bad thing about my fiancé," Kurt said.

The guy puffed up his chest, grinning at Kurt. "He's a worthless, useless, talentless, fucking _waste _of space."

Kurt swung.

He didn't remember what happened, exactly, but one moment he was standing in the guy's face and the next thing he knew the guy was on the ground and Kurt was straddling his chest, punching him in the face over and over again.

Hands circled around his arms, pulling him back. "Kurt! Kurt, stop! Leave him alone! Blaine wouldn't want you to do this!"

Kurt stood up and ripped his arms away, turning around to glare at Diane. "Well Blaine doesn't get a say right now!"

"He wouldn't want this, Kurt. This isn't how he handled things."

"No, he just took it out on himself, like that's so much better. It's this neanderthal that deserves it," Kurt said, glaring down at the guy.

He was groaning on the floor, covering his bleeding nose, both eyes already starting to purple and swell.

Kurt took deep, calming breaths, coming back to himself. His eyes widened as he stared down at the guy he'd beaten.

"I-" he choked on his apology, unable to give it. "What's your name?"

The guy coughed a few times before saying, "What do you care, asshole?"

"You bully my fiancé and _I'm _the asshole?"

"I didn't ever beat him up! Fuck!"

"You might as well have," Kurt spat.

Diane shook her head and grabbed Kurt's hand. "His name's Kevin. But it doesn't matter, Kurt. Let's just go, okay? We can grab lunch or something. Blow off the rest of our classes. You need to calm down."

Kurt sighed and wiped a hand down his face, wincing when he pulled it away and noticed the blood and bruising. "You're right. I'm sorry, I.. I don't know what-"

"I know," Diane said. She took his hand in both of hers and looked it over. "Trust me, I know. But this isn't what Blaine wants, okay? Let's go. I'll fix up your hand and we'll go get lunch somewhere and get your mind off of things for a while."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Diane held his book bag out to him, so he took it and started walking away without a single glance back to Kevin lying on the floor.

They headed down the hall, out of the building, across the street and around the block. Kurt led the way, heading for the diner. Santana was working, he thought, and it was the only place he could think of to go to at the moment. They arrived soon enough and Santana greeted them at the door.

"Oh, hey guys. What's up?"

"Table for two, please," Diane said, smiling.

Santana paused, narrowing her eyes at Kurt. "Don't you have class right now?"

"Could you get me a wet rag? Preferably a clean one so I don't get an infection," Kurt said.

"What do you need a rag for?" Kurt held up his hand and Santana gasped. "Holy shit, Hummel, who'd you beat up?"

"Some asshole who was trashing Blaine."

Santana nodded. "I approve. I'll get you a rag in a second. Go seat yourselves in my section."

Kurt scanned the seating plot of the restaurant and found her section then led Diane over to a booth by a window. Santana reappeared quickly, holding out a wet rag full of ice.

"Did you get him good?"

"I guess. I don't really want to talk about it, Santana." Kurt winced as he pressed the ice pack to his knuckles. "I'm not proud of it."

"Well I am! Shit, I wish I could've been there to help."

Diane gave Santana a look. "That's not how Blaine solved his problems, Santana."

"No, he solved them by beating himself up. Like that's any better? It's those assholes that deserve it."

"That's what I said," Kurt told her.

"Good."

"I don't feel right talking about Blaine when he's not here," Diane said. "Especially about his personal stuff."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that, Diane. We can talk about something else."

Santana looked over her shoulder and called out, "Gunther, I'm going on break!" Then she looked down at Diane and nudged her shoulder. "Scoot over. I'm sitting with you." She slid into the booth bench beside Diane and met Kurt's eyes. "So. Cooper's staying with us."

"Yes, he is." He looked at Diane and added, "Cooper is Blaine's older brother."

"Ah."

"Yeah, and apparently he's crashing on our couch until Blaine comes home from the hospital," Santana said.

"Do you have any idea when that'll be?" Diane asked.

Kurt shook his head. "We're not sure yet. It depends on his progress."

"Even then, he'll have to keep going back for physical therapy."

"For what? I'm sorry, I don't know all the details, it's okay to tell me I'm being nosy and to butt out."

Kurt smiled at her. "No, it's okay. He wouldn't mind you knowing. He fell really hard on his right side when he rolled off of the car, and so his arm and leg have a lot of damage. They're not sure if he's going to regain full use of either. His arm is looking good, but they won't know about his leg until they take it out of the cast in another month."

"Yikes. That's terrible."

"Yeah, it sucks," Santana said.

"But we're being optimistic," Kurt said. "We're saying that he's going to regain full use and we're not focusing on the bad stuff."

"How is Blaine handling it?" Diane asked.

"As well as can be expected," Kurt answered.

Santana pursed her lips. "He doesn't remember...what happened right before the accident. So he's...he's good. For now."

Kurt nodded. "Hopefully for a long time."

"I'm glad to hear it," Diane said.

They sat in the booth and talked for half an hour until Gunther called Santana back out on the floor to work. Diane said she was supposed to be meeting Clare to help her run lines, so she and Kurt parted ways at the door. Kurt told Santana he'd see her at home and headed there. He was exhausted and ready to just collapse on his bed when he got back to the loft to take a nap and forget all about this crappy day.

Except when he slid the door open, he was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Anderson sitting at the kitchen table with Cooper and Rachel.

"Oh. Hi."

"You're home!" Rachel said, smiling at him. She came over to him and pulled him in for a hug, whispering in his ear, "You so owe me for entertaining your in-laws. They are a total wreck." She pulled away beaming, ever the actress.

Kurt patted Rachel's shoulder and walked over to the kitchen table. "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, hello. I didn't expect you or I would've been home sooner. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's okay, we sort of dropped by unannounced," Mrs. Anderson said.

"Yeah, that runs in the family," Kurt said, looking at Cooper. "So what brings you guys by? Not that I don't enjoy your company, I just-"

"Kurt, it's okay," Mr. Anderson said, smiling kindly. "We understand. We just wanted to come say goodbye. We have to head back to Ohio, get back to work, but we wanted to come say bye to you and our son before we left."

"Does Blaine know you're leaving?" Kurt asked.

Mrs. Anderson nodded. "We told him this morning. We assured him that we'd be back to visit as soon as we could, though, and he seemed alright."

"Good. That's good," Kurt said, forcing a smile.

"Well, we'd better be going, then," Mr. Anderson said, standing up. He took a few steps toward Kurt and extended a hand. Kurt took it. "It was good to see you again, Kurt, even under these awful circumstances. I trust you'll take care of our son?"

"Both of them, really," Mrs. Anderson added, throwing a teasing look to Cooper.

"Of course, yeah. I'm sure Cooper will keep you updated on everything with Blaine."

"You could give us a call every now and then, too," Mrs. Anderson said. "It wouldn't hurt to hear from the both of you."

Kurt nodded. "I'll do that."

She smiled and came over, pulling Kurt into a hug. "Thank you for being here for Blaine. I know that this can't have been easy. Thank you for not giving up on him."

"Never," Kurt said. "I would never give up on him. He's my life."

When she pulled back, she nodded, seemingly blinking back tears. "Blaine is so lucky to have found you, Kurt."

"We're lucky to have found each other," Kurt said.

Blaine's parents left soon enough, after a bustle of hugs and handshakes and affectionate parting phrases. Once the loft door slid shut behind them, Cooper turned to Kurt and Rachel.

"So? Movie night? We can order in! No pizza, though, I can't eat gluten. How about some Chinese food? I love me some pork fried rice."

Kurt tilted his head and scrunched his nose, mouth falling open. He glanced over at Rachel, who merely shrugged, then shook his head. "I can't handle either of you right now."

"What did I do?" Rachel asked, offended.

"Nothing. I've just had a really shitty day and I don't want company, okay? I'm sorry. Don't bother me unless the apartment is burning down or the hospital calls about Blaine."

Kurt stalked into his room, yanking the curtain closed behind him and dropping onto his bed. He threw an arm over his eyes and sighed, biting his lip to keep from crying again. He stayed like that for ten minutes before kicking off his shoes and slipping out of his pants, then crawled up the bed and got under the covers. It was barely evening but he sorely needed a nap.

He didn't wake up again until later that night. It was dark outside when he blinked his eyes open, rolling over to see Santana pulling the sheets back.

"Hey, it's just me," she said, kneeling on the bed in her bra and underwear. Black lace and red polka dots that matched.

"Cute lingerie," he said. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine o'clock."

"Crap, I slept through dinner."

"Are you hungry? There's leftover egg rolls out there."

"No, that's okay."

"Don't you get food issues too now."

Kurt gave her a hard look. "That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking," she said, shrugging.

He shook his head, laying flat on his back and looking up at her. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" she asked, tilting her head. "It's okay if you're not, Kurt. Blaine's in the hospital in a psychiatric ward. It's okay if you're not fine."

"It was just a crappy day. Tomorrow will be better."

"You don't have to keep up the optimistic shit with me, you know. You can be honest."

Kurt looked her over, reaching out a hand to tug on the ends of her hair. "You took our your extensions."

"They were a hassle at work," she said, shrugging.

"I like your hair this way. Natural. It looks...softer. You look pretty."

Santana rolled her eyes but smiled. "Are you hitting on me? Because I know I look hot in this lingerie but I'm going on my third date with Erin tomorrow night so it'll have to be a one time thing."

Kurt laughed and shoved her shoulder. "That wouldn't be enjoyable for either one of us."

"I slept with lots of guys in high school. I'd survive."

"Yeah, well, I'm a gold star gay and I wouldn't."

"Too bad. You've got some real nice equipment."

"How do you know?"

"Kurt, we've been sleeping together in this bed for a couple weeks now. I've woken up to your morning wood more often than not."

"Oh, god," Kurt said, chuckling and covering his eyes. "I can't decide whether to be embarrassed or not."

Santana pulled his hands away from his face and smirked. "You shouldn't be. Blaine is a _very _lucky guy."

"Trust me, so am I," Kurt said, looking at her.

She laughed and shoved at his chest. "I can't wait to get laid again."

"You think things'll get that far? With Erin, I mean."

"Maybe. She's cute and nice and doesn't take me too seriously."

"You mean you didn't scare her off with your biting sarcasm? I'm shocked."

"Shut up. I'm capable of being pleasant."

"That's debatable."

"You're an asshole. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Right back atcha, Satan."

Santana shook her head, smiling to herself as she climbed under the covers next to Kurt. She cuddled up to his side and laid her head on his chest, throwing an arm across his stomach and a leg over both of his. "I'm sorry we're in this crappy situation, Kurt. I really did try my best to help him."

"I know you did," Kurt said, scratching his fingers lightly over Santana's bare back. "I did too. The problem was that he didn't try. But he is now, and he's going to be better."

"I already told you you don't have to keep up that optimistic shit with me."

"It's not shit. It's all I have, Santana."

She nodded against his chest, taking a deep breath. "Alright."

Kurt held her closer and drifted off to sleep again.


	58. Control

_Summary: 5x16 fic. Fill for Blangst Prompt of the Day #783. Blaine goes overboard with dieting and exercising and it gets to the point where he passes out from dehydration, causing Kurt to see that there's something much bigger going on. _

… … …

_Resist the cronuts. Resist the cronuts. Resist the cronuts._

Blaine repeated the mantra over and over again in his head as he passed the bakery, keeping his head down and averting his eyes from the shop window. His stomach growled as he walked, loud enough that a couple of women he passed stared at him. He glared down at it, sliding his hand and patting the roundness.

No, he definitely didn't need any more cronuts.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and noticed a text from Kurt.

_Hey, I'm hitting the gym later. Wanna join? :)_

Blaine smiled and sent off a reply.

_Do I want to watch you lifting weights and sweating? Is that a rhetorical question? ;)_

Kurt replied only a moment later with his own winky face, so Blaine stuffed his phone back into his pocket and picked up his pace. When he got back to his apartment, he quickly slipped out of his cardigan and bright-coloured pants and into a pair of shorts and tank top for the gym. As he sat on the edge of the bed lacing up his tennis shoes, his phone vibrated next to him.

"Hello?

"_Hey, babe, I'm about to head to the gym. Are you on your way over?"_

"Yeah, I'm just putting on my shoes. You want me to come over and we can walk together or did you just want to meet there?"

_"Wanna make it fun?"_

"I'm listening," Blaine said, smiling and setting his feet on the floor.

_"How about we run there? You go from your apartment and I'll go from mine and we'll see who gets there first."_

"Like a warm up?"

_"Exactly."_

"Better start running."

Kurt laughed. _"Love you."_

"Love you too."

Blaine hung up the phone and grabbed his armband with the slot for his iPhone, slipping it on. He plugged in his headphones and started his work-out playlist, then dropped the phone into the slot and strapped it in before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

They'd decided to join a gym halfway between their two apartments with a discount membership for couples recently. Kurt had been very supportive in helping Blaine get healthy and even bought a cookbook for light meals 500-750 calories. It had been a good few weeks and Blaine could already see some progress, but not enough. Never enough. His stomach was still soft where Kurt's was defined and strong. Blaine's arms were round with fat while Kurt's were round with muscle. There was no use in comparing himself to Kurt because he could never measure up.

Not for long, though. Blaine was determined to catch up. Kurt may be out of his league now, but that would change soon. He just needed to get the eating under control, adhere to a more strict work-out schedule, maintain a strong self-discipline. He'd been slacking in his life, lulled into the comfort of indulging in foods to cope with the stress of completely changing his life. No more of that.

He had to get his life together. He _had _to.

The jog to the gym went by quickly. He maintained his pace as he went, jogging in place at crosswalks until he was allowed to go. He thought he'd done well, but by the time he ran into the lobby of the gym, already soaked in sweat, Kurt was already there.

"Hey, slowpoke," Kurt said, grinning as he came over and poked Blaine in the ribs.

Blaine shied away and wrapped his arms around his middle. "Come on, you know I hate when you do that."

"Sorry." Kurt kissed Blaine's cheek. "You ready to go work out?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

Blaine followed Kurt over to the work-out equipment, grabbing a set of weights and starting his routine with Kurt. They usually started with arms before moving to abs and ending with legs. Kurt liked to work his way down his body and Blaine had been following his lead on this. It wasn't that Blaine had never worked out before. On the contrary, Blaine used to work out all the time. But clearly whatever he was doing wasn't working because he'd always looked kind of soft and whatever Kurt was doing had him looking like…

Well, like he did.

Blaine got distracted, slowing in his lifting as his eyes were drawn to the beads of sweat collecting at Kurt's temples. Kurt had a tendency to stick his tongue out when he was concentrating and Blaine was mesmerized.

"Enjoying the view?" Kurt asked, side-eyeing him and raising an eyebrow.

Blaine blushed. "Maybe."

"If you focus now I'll reward you later."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm. But you gotta pick up the pace, mister. You're slacking over there. Stop ogling me and lift your weights."

"Can I do both?"

"I suppose," Kurt said, winking.

Blaine smiled and started lifting his weights again, maintaining eye contact with Kurt for the rest of the set of reps.

They went through the whole work-out routine together, trading comments and snapping each other with their towels. It was fun, and Blaine loved getting to have this extra time with Kurt just the two of them. Well, and the rest of the gym-goers. But after they were done, Kurt looked phenomenal, glistening with sweat all over his toned muscles. He looked like he belonged there. Blaine caught sight of himself in one of the big mirrors as they passed and frowned. He looked frumpy and exhausted, red-faced and panting.

"You coming?" Kurt asked, standing at the entrance to the guys' locker room.

"Um—you know what? I think I'm gonna do a little extra work. Maybe spend some time with a punching bag."

"Oh. Okay. Will I see you at the loft when you're done?"

"If you want."

"Of course I want. We can do dinner together, take turns chopping the onions to save our eyes." Kurt took steps to meet Blaine and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. "See you at home?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you soon."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

He watched Kurt disappear into the locker room before heading over to one of the free punching bags. There was a courtesy roll of wrapping next to it, so Blaine wrapped his hands before diving in.

And oh, he'd forgotten how much he loved this. Loved the feeling of putting all of his weight behind a punch, of delivering a hard blow, of watching the heavy bag swing backwards from his force and strength. It reminded him that he had still had strength left, even if it was small these days.

After he exhausted himself at the punching bag, he stopped at the mirror again. His body was screaming at him to stop for the day, to go home and chug a gallon of water and rest on the couch for a while. His reflection told him something very differently. The roundness of his stomach pushing against his shirt, the thickness of his thighs showing under his shorts, the softness of his arms exposed in his tank top for the world to see.

No, he had to keep going. He had to catch up to Kurt. So he ventured upstairs to the second floor and started running laps around the track. Every footfall, his muscles ached and burned, but the image of himself in the mirror downstairs kept him going.

No more slacking. No more "good enough." He had to go above and beyond if he wanted to match Kurt. No more late night snacks, no more second portions at dinner, no more indulging on Sundays.

He had to get serious about this. He resolved to drink the cleanse juice every day instead of every other day and to cut a meal out of every day. He could survive without lunch. It had been a while since he'd eaten breakfast, but he really only needed one meal a day with the cleanse.

When the track started to tilt sideways and the person running in front of him turned into a blur, Blaine knew it was time to stop, whether he wanted to or not. He slowed to a walk and turned the corner to get to the stairs, heading down to the locker room. He took a quick shower before slipping into a t-shirt and basketball shorts.

The loft was filled with voices when he got there. He slid the door open to see Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes all at the kitchen table pouring over magazines while Sam, Artie, and Kurt were sitting in the living room, focused on the TV with controllers in their hands.

Kurt looked up when Blaine came in. "Hey, you're done!"

"Yeah."

Kurt abandoned the controller and came over to him, throwing his arms around Blaine's shoulders and leaning in for a kiss. "I'm proud of you for doing extra. That takes a lot of self-discipline. You're doing really well, baby."

"As long as you're not going overboard," Sam said, throwing Blaine a look. "You drank enough water, right?"

"I was actually just about to grab a bottle from the fridge."

"Good."

"I'll grab it for you," Kurt said, kissing Blaine again before stepping back. He pulled a water bottle from the fridge and held it out to Blaine. "You ready to start cooking? Or do you want to rest for a minute?"

"I think I'll rest for a minute, if that's alright. I did a few laps on the track upstairs and my legs are killing me."

"Sure, that's fine. You can take my place in Mario Party. Artie keeps stealing my stars and I'm about two seconds away from rolling him out of here."

"Hey, don't bully the kid in the wheelchair!"

"Says the guy who's been stealing all my stars!"

"All's fair in love and Mario Party."

"Bite me."

Blaine laughed and gulped down half the water bottle. "Sounds like you could use some back-up. I'll play for you."

"Thank god."

His body sang a chorus of hallelujah when he finally sat down, sinking onto the couch and picking up Kurt's controller. Kurt came and sat down beside him, hands going to Blaine's shoulders and massaging him.

Blaine moaned. "Oh, Kurt, you're the _best_."

"I know," Kurt said, placing a kiss to the back of Blaine's neck.

"How was the work-out, Blaine?" Rachel asked.

"Exhausting," he answered. Kurt's thumbs started working on a particular bad spot between his shoulder blades and he moaned loudly.

"Geez, take it to the bedroom," Santana said.

"We're not doing anything," Blaine said, closing his eyes and dropping his head forward.

Santana snorted. "Yeah, right. You just moaned the exact same way you do when you're coming."

"How would you know?"

"You do realize your bedroom doesn't actually have walls, right? It doesn't matter if it's late at night, I can still hear you," Santana said.

"Don't be jealous, Santana. You'll find someone soon," Kurt teased.

"It's hard _not _to be jealous of the sounds you two make in bed," Artie said.

Blaine huffed, opening his eyes and looking up. "Why are we talking about my sex life with my fiancé?"

"Because it's better than all of our sex lives," Sam muttered.

"Real nice, Sam," Mercedes said, giving him a look.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Sorry!"

"You hungry at all yet?" Kurt asked, talking into Blaine's ear.

Blaine shrugged. He thought of his image in that mirror. "Not really."

"You sure? I'm always starving after a work-out."

"I think I'm just too sore to think about anything else."

Kurt tipped his forehead against Blaine's temple and said, "Why don't I go draw you a bath, hmm? You can have a nice, long soak while I cook us some dinner."

"What about the others?"

"I highly doubt they're going to care if you take a bath and I cook us dinner." Kurt's hands stilled on Blaine's shoulders.

Blaine turned his head to give Kurt a kiss. "Alright."

"Good." Kurt kissed him again before standing up and heading for the bathroom.

Blaine played one more mini-game before setting the controller down. "I'm out, guys."

"What? We still have seven more turns left!" Sam said.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Is Kurt gonna take over?" Artie asked.

"Kurt's going to be cooking dinner for us. And by us I mean me and him."

Sam shook his head and narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "You guys are so selfish."

"Right. Well, you're all adults and you can handle feeding yourselves. Kurt and I are only concerned about each other."

"See?" Sam asked, looking at Artie. "Selfish."

Blaine rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom. Kurt was sitting on the lip of the tub, hand under the running water. He looked up at Blaine and smiled. "Hey, do you want lavender or jasmine bubble bath?"

"Both?"

"No. Pick one."

"You pick."

"I like the way lavender smells on you. It compliments your natural scent well," Kurt said. He grabbed the bottle from one of the wire shelving racks and poured some in.

"What's my natural scent smell like?" Blaine asked.

Kurt screwed the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the shelf again, then came over to Blaine and slipped his arms around Blaine's waist. He ducked his head into Blaine's neck and kissed the soft skin there. "Like you. Like home."

Blaine smiled and kissed the top of Kurt's head. Kurt pulled back and turned to the bathtub again, focusing on watching the water rise before turning off the faucet. "And you, sir, now have a bubble bath."

"Thank you."

"Of course," Kurt said. He sat on the toilet lid and smiled up at Blaine.

Blaine fidgeted, toying with the hem of his shirt. "Would you—would you mind leaving the room?"

"Since when are you shy about being naked around me?"

"I just—I don't know. I'm having a bad body image day."

"Baby, we've talked about this," Kurt said, frowning. "You're beautiful."

"I appreciate that, but… I don't know. I'm working on it. I'm just not there yet."

Kurt smiled sadly at him before standing up and placing a hand on Blaine's hip. "Okay." He pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheekbone. "I love you."

"Love you too."

"I'm gonna go start dinner."

"Sounds good."

Once the door had closed behind Kurt, Blaine looked at himself in the mirror. He tugged his shirt over his head, then pushed his shorts and underwear down off his legs in one move. He kicked off his tennis shoes and yanked off his socks. And then he was staring at himself in the mirror, grimacing at his reflection.

He was still the same pudgy, soft, dough boy he had been when he'd started the cleanse, and that had been a few weeks ago now. He had to step his game up. He _had _to. Kurt was getting stronger and more attractive every day while Blaine was getting the opposite.

As he slipped into the tub, sinking into the warm bubbles, he thought of possibilities. He and Kurt had done a lot of research about ways to lose weight and get toned. They found a cleanse that was healthier than the one Blaine had stolen from Matthew McConaughey and he'd been on the new one ever since, but he needed something else. Something more. Something that would push him over the edge and really make everything he was doing more effective.

There were blogs they'd come across in their research, lying in bed the night after their talk with a laptop balanced on one of each of their legs. The blogs were called "pro-ana" blogs, which Blaine soon figured out meant they supported anorexia. They made him think of Marley and he felt a pang of sadness for his friend who'd passed out on stage from dehydration.

He wouldn't let it get that far, though. He'd be better at it. He could control it better. It didn't have to be a bad thing. Some people cut gluten from their diet, or sugar, or dairy. Blaine would just be cutting meals from his diet. He'd only eat enough calories to sustain his body and keep it from retaining fat, and then he'd burn them all off at the gym. It had to work. It was a genius plan, really, and Blaine wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

Portion control. It seemed so simple.

Blaine closed his eyes and sank further into the water, leaning his head against the edge of the tub. He dozed off for a bit before he was shaken awake by Kurt.

"Hey. Dinner's ready."

"Oh." Blaine blinked his eyes open and sat up in the tub. Almost all of the bubbles had dissolved. "I don't even remember falling asleep."

"That's really dangerous, Blaine. You could've drowned. Don't do that again, okay?"

"I'll try not to. It's not like I did it on purpose," Blaine said.

"I know. Come on, I've got a towel for you right here," Kurt said, holding up a towel.

Blaine bit his lip.

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. "Blaine, I'm not going to judge you, remember? You don't have to feel insecure around me. How am I supposed to give you your reward for doing so well at the gym today if I'm not allowed to see you naked?"

"You're right," Blaine said. He took a deep breath and stood up in the tub, stepping out and letting Kurt wrap the towel around him.

Kurt kissed Blaine's nose. "You're still as handsome as the day we met, babe. You have nothing to worry about."

"Thanks."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Kurt tipped their foreheads together. "When are you going to believe me?"

Blaine took his time, debating how best to answer. After a moment, he decided on honesty. "I don't know."

Kurt sighed, tilting his head to kiss Blaine's lips before pulling back. "Alright. Well, dinner is ready, so go put some clothes on and come to the table."

"Are the others still here?"

"Yeah. Santana griped about me not cooking anything for her and Rachel complained that it wasn't fair so I said suggested they order Vietnamese and they were satisfied. They're eating noodles and soup right now."

"You're so good."

"I try."

Blaine pulled on the towel and re-situates it, wrapping it around his waist and tucking the corner in. He didn't want his stomach to be seen by everyone in the loft, so he threw on the shirt he'd been wearing earlier.

"Honey, that's dirty. You just got clean."

"I don't want everyone in the apartment looking at me."

Kurt sighed but let it go, which Blaine was thankful for. He headed into the bedroom and changed shirts then slipped on a pair of boxer briefs and some sweatpants before rejoining the gang in the living area. They were all sat at the kitchen table eating.

The pasta Kurt had made looked delicious, but Blaine thought of his new plan and hesitated.

Kurt noticed him fidgeting by the stove and said, "Grab yourself a plate. It's a 550 calorie meal."

"You know, I think I may skip dinner tonight."

Santana frowned. "That's not healthy."

"I'm just not hungry," Blaine said, shrugging.

"Why are you guys counting calories anyway?" Sam asked. "If you have a work-out routine you're fine. Just don't eat, like, three pizzas in one sitting."

"We're trying to live healthier lives together," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine. "We both decided that eating healthier isn't such a bad idea. We want to be around for a while."

"You're not even twenty. I don't think you have to worry about that yet," Santana said.

"You know, it's not really any of your business what Blaine and I are doing."

"He's my best friend," Sam said.

"He's my fiancé."

Blaine spoke up, trying to break the argument. "I think I'm just gonna lie down for a while. I'll eat later."

"Are you sure, babe?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. I think I over-did it at the gym."

Before anyone else could butt into his life, Blaine turned around and slipped into Kurt's bedroom, tugging the curtain closed. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, ignoring the empty, gnawing feeling in his stomach.

That was a good sign, he told himself. It meant he was getting stronger. Thinner.

More perfect.

… … …

It worked better than Blaine had anticipated. In just three weeks he'd lost twenty pounds. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself. The softness was gone, the pudge no more. He could see his rib cage and grinned in triumph every time he passed a mirror.

But it wasn't enough yet. He wasn't perfect yet. Perfect was still another fifteen pounds away.

He'd get there, though. He knew he would. It would just take more time, more focus, more discipline, more control.

All things Blaine had now. He ate only once a day, or sometimes not at all if he could get away with it. He went to the gym twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon with Kurt. Sometimes he sneaked out at night and went for an extra run. Kurt was encouraging, constantly supporting Blaine and complimenting him on the weight loss. He added the occasional comment about how Blaine didn't need to work so hard, that he looked really good, that he could pull back some, but Blaine didn't listen to that.

He wasn't doing this for Kurt anymore. He was doing it for himself. For his own peace of mind. He wanted to be perfect for himself, not for anyone else, and that made him feel empowered.

Of course, he had the occasional dizzy spell now and then, and he'd fainted a couple times in dance class, but it was fine. He brushed everyone off and said he had a medical condition he didn't like to discuss, then chugged a bottle of water and smiled like nothing had happened. Kurt didn't know about it, thank god, or else Blaine would really be in trouble.

On Sunday, their indulgence day, Blaine decided to slip out of bed before Kurt woke up and go for a quick run around the neighborhood. He left a note saying he'd be back in an hour in case Kurt woke up while he was gone and headed out the door.

It was a beautiful day outside. Cold, but nice. He had on a hoodie to protect him against the cold but after only the first twenty minutes he had to unzip it. His body was warm and light, flying down the streets to land at crosswalks until it was safe to go. He started feeling dizzy but played it off as the cool air messing with his head and kept going.

The longer he ran, though, the worse the dizziness got. The edges of his vision started to blur before he blacked out completely, collapsing on the sidewalk.

… … …

Blaine woke up to whispered fighting and a steady beeping.

"You were supposed to be helping him, not pushing him into an eating disorder!"

"I didn't know, Sam! Do you think if I'd known it was this bad I would've let it continue?"

"Clearly, you did, because here we are!"

"I did the best I could! I was trying to be supportive! You didn't see the way he broke down in front of me! He's fragile and I didn't want to hurt him any more, so I supported him and encouraged him! I didn't know he'd taken it this far!"

"How could you not know? His bones are sticking out, for Christ's sake!"

"He hasn't let me see him naked in weeks, Sam!"

"Goddamnit, Kurt. You know, I'm a _model _and I love Mercedes the way she is. I see girls _and _guys doing all kinds of crazy things to get skinny and I would never want to see her doing something like that. So how could you let Blaine do this?"

"You cannot blame me for this. I didn't know he was taking it to this extreme. And if all you're going to do is yell at me, you can leave! I'm not going to sit here and listen to this. I'm here for Blaine and you should be too."

Blaine took a deep breath and blinked his eyes open. "Guys? Could you stop fighting please?" He looked around the room, taking in the white walls, the IV hooked up in his arm, the hospital bed he was laying in, and frowned. "What happened?"

"You passed out in the street, honey," Kurt said, reaching forward from the chair by his bed and taking his hand.

"I did?"

"Yeah. From dehydration."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. "Just like Marley," he muttered to himself. "Damn it."

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Nothing," Blaine said, opening his eyes. He looked over at Sam who was standing at the foot of his bed. "Hey, man."

"Dude, not cool."

"What?"

"We know what you've been doing. How could you let it get this out of control, bro? Going on a diet is one thing but this…this is different."

Blaine looked down at the hospital blanket over his body and started picking at a loose thread in it. "You don't understand."

"Then help us to," Kurt said, squeezing his hand. "Explain it to us."

"You have it all wrong. This is the first time I've really felt like I'm _in _control."

Kurt's breath hitched, but he kept his voice even when he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my life has been kind of crazy lately," Blaine said, meeting Kurt's eyes. "With moving here and figuring out life with you, and then moving out of your apartment and into a new one, and trying to learn my way around the city, and adjusting to the responsibilities of the course load at NYADA. A lot of things have felt really out of control for me lately. Including my eating. I just wanted to get some of that back. I just wanted to be perfect."

Kurt bit his lip and glanced over at Sam, who raised his eyebrows and held out his hands. "Told you," Sam said.

"Blaine, why didn't you tell me this before?" Kurt asked.

"I tried," Blaine said, shrugging. "You were mad so you weren't really listening."

Kurt frowned. "I'm so sorry, Blaine. If I'd known it was this bad, that the problem was deeper, I would've…"

"It's fine."

"It's not. This isn't healthy."

"Yeah, dude, you need serious help," Sam added. "The models I've met who get mixed up in this stuff are in really bad shape. I don't wanna see you end up like them."

"I'm fine, I'm not—"

"Blaine. Please let us help you," Kurt said. He looked around the room. "You're in the hospital, baby. We've hit bottom here. You need to get help."

"It's not that bad, it's—"

Sam cut him off. "Stop fighting it, man. Just let us help."

Blaine looked at both of their faces before sighing and crossing his arms. They weren't going to let this go, he knew, and his only choice was to agree. "Fine."

"Yeah?" Kurt said.

"Yeah, fine. I'll do whatever you guys say," Blaine said. The words pained him coming out of his mouth.

He'd finally taken control of his life again and now it was being taken away.

Kurt squeezed his hand and smiled. "Good. Thank you."

Blaine nodded but didn't say more.

He'd just have to be more careful about it, then. He couldn't ignore a fainting spell when it was happening. He'd have to keep a water bottle on his person at all times, and an emergency protein bar. Nothing over 150 calories though.

He could do that.

If Kurt and Sam wanted to believe they were helping him, that was fine. But he wouldn't let them take his control away. Not when he'd just gotten it back. Not when he'd worked so hard for it.

No. Blaine was in control, and no one was going to take that from him.


	59. Shake It Out

_Anon prompted "I'm really late on this but how about a 5x16 reaction fic where blaine was actually avoiding intimacy because of the self harm scars on his stomach/thighs?"_

… … …

"Do we really need all this lettuce?" Blaine asked.

Kurt glanced over their grocery bags on the kitchen table and shrugged. "I do. It's really good for you, Blaine."

"And the spinach?"

"Yes."

"And the baby carrots?"

"Okay, I only got two bags!"

"What about the cheesecake platter?"

"Cheesecake is non-negotiable," Kurt said, giving Blaine a stern look.

Blaine laughed and stuck the platter on a shelf in the fridge. "You're right. I'm sorry I questioned the cheesecake."

"You better be."

They put away the rest of the groceries in relative silence, bumping hips and exchanging cheek kisses. When everything was in its place, Blaine felt warm arms circle around his waist from behind and lips being pressed just below his ear.

"Hi," Blaine said, laughing.

Kurt kissed down the side of his neck, nuzzling the soft skin there. "Hi. We have the loft to ourselves for the next hour or two. Wanna have sex on the couch?"

Blaine bit his lip, trying to come up with a good excuse. "Um, how about we take advantage of the quiet and just cuddle and watch a movie?"

"Watch a movie?" Kurt spun Blaine around in his arms and frowned at him. "We can do that when people are around."

"Yeah, but I miss all of the dialogue, and they always interrupt us or encroach on our space. I'd rather just curl up under a blanket with you and watch _The Time Traveler's Wife."_

"You would rather watch a movie than have sex?"

"Today, yeah. I'm just kinda worn out from classes and stuff."

Kurt pouted. "Are you sure? Not even mutual blowjobs?"

Blaine gave him a half smile and placed a hand on his chest. "How about you do this for me now and I'll give you a blowjob later?"

Kurt perked up and Blaine knew he'd won. Kurt _loved_Blaine going down on him. "Okay, weirdo. I've never known you to turn down sex."

"It's just right now. I'm tired from the trip to the store after the long dance rehearsal I had yesterday."

"You know, an orgasm would help you sleep."

"But I don't wanna sleep. I want to spend time with you, awake and cuddling."

"I don't understand you sometimes."

"Good."

Kurt scrunched up his nose, so Blaine leaned forward and kissed it, making Kurt break out into a smile. He tapped Blaine's butt before letting go and heading over to the couch. Blaine followed, putting in the DVD and then laying down in front of Kurt, wanting to be spooned. Kurt kissed Blaine's cheek and laid an arm over Blaine's waist, settling into a comfortable position behind him.

"See? This is nice," Blaine said.

"An orgasm would be nicer," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine chuckled. "Later, my love."

They laid on the couch together for an hour before Santana and Rachel came home, arguing loudly and ruining everything. Blaine continued trying to watch the movie but gave up after ten minutes. He rolled over to face Kurt and frowned.

"See? Movie ruined."

Kurt sighed and raised his head to look over at Santana and Rachel, who were still yelling at each other across the kitchen table. "Guys? Could you keep it down? Blaine and I are trying to watch a movie."

"Kurt, this is very serious! Santana is poaching my customers and stealing my tips—"

"No one's stealing anything, dwarf. It's not my fault those people wanted a server who wouldn't make them lose their appetite just by looking at your face."

"See?! Kurt! Help me!"

"Fight your own battles," Kurt snapped. "And do it somewhere else."

"We live here, Lady Hummel, we have as much right to be here as you do. The only one who doesn't have a say is Blaine, which means it's me and Berry against only you, so we win."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't fucking care; I'm busy being enraged by Thumbelina."

Kurt groaned and fell back against the couch again as the girls . "Why do I have to live with two women?"

"It's okay. I should get going anyway. I have a lot of homework," Blaine said, sitting up on the edge of the couch.

Kurt pushed up and frowned at him. "Don't leave me here with them."

"Sorry. I really do have stuff to get done."

"Can't you do it here? We can go into my room and turn up the music and if they get too loud we can just throw ice at them until they shut up."

"As…tantalizing as that sounds, I don't think I'd get much done here."

"So you're just going to leave me with them?"

"They're _your_ roommates, Kurt."

"What about my blowjob?"

"You officially have an IOU One Blowjob ticket to use whenever you want."

"I want to use it now."

Blaine sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "Kurt, I'm not really in the mood to argue with you right now over a blowjob."

"Fine," Kurt spat, standing up and walking away.

"No, wait, Kurt—"

"I said it's fine."

Kurt disappeared into his bedroom and drew the curtain shut. Blaine could still see him through the bookcase but knew it was better to just leave it alone. Rachel and Santana were already arguing loud enough for the whole block to hear and Blaine really didn't want to add to it. He didn't want to fight with Kurt at all. He knew what he wanted to do, but he'd made a promise to Kurt that he'd stop once he got to New York and he moved away from the stress of his parents. Blaine had already slipped up twice, unbeknownst to Kurt. He didn't want to slip up again.

He didn't anticipate that living with Kurt, even part-time now, would be more stressful.

Shaking his head to himself, he stood up and grabbed his book bag from beside the couch. He glanced over at the curtain and weighed his options. He could approach Kurt with a peace offering now or he could wait until Kurt had had some time to cool down.

He made his decision and poked his head through the opening in the curtain. "Kurt? Do you want to come with me? Escape the girls?"

"No," Kurt snapped, not bothering to turn around in his desk chair to face Blaine.

Blaine sighed. "Kurt, come on. Don't be like this."

"I'm not _being like _anything."

"Yes you are. You're being difficult."

"Just go home, Blaine."

Blaine bit his lip and tried to maintain his patience. "Do you want to come with me?" he asked again, pronouncing each word individually to emphasize his question.

Kurt finally spun in his desk chair and glared at Blaine. "Are you asking because you want to or because you feel guilty?"

"Both?" Blaine said, shrugging."

Kurt stared hard at Blaine for a minute before relaxing his shoulders and standing up. "Fine. But only because if I have to listen to those two shrieking at each other for another minute my head is going to explode."

"Hence why I'm leaving."

Blaine waited while Kurt grabbed his books and stuffed them in his bag, then grabbed his coat and keys. Santana and Rachel didn't even acknowledge them as they left, and Blaine felt relieved the moment they slid the door shut and started descending the stairs.

"God, how do you live like that?"

"They're not usually that bad. But I'm still mad at you so don't talk to me."

"Kurt, seriously?" Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "What are you even mad about?"

"I'm mad because you've been pushing me away," Kurt said, pushing the door to his apartment building open and stepping out onto the sidewalk. Blaine fell into step beside him but didn't try to take his hand.

"I have not."

"Yes you have. You never want to fool around or fuck anymore."

"This is one time, Kurt."

"No, it's not just today. It's two days ago, when I got home from work at the diner and you gave me an amazing foot rub and I told you I wanted to repay you in the bedroom and you shot me down. It's last weekend, when you slept over and I started kissing down your chest to wake you up with a morning blowjob and you startled awake and bolted out of bed. It's last Thursday, when we made out on the couch and no one was home and I started taking off your sweater and you said we should cool down. Like we were still seventeen or something."

"Just because I don't want to have sex doesn't mean anything. I'm tir—"

"I swear to god if you tell me you're too tired to have sex one more time I'm going to scream."

Blaine shook his head. "Are you really mad at me because I don't want to have sex every day?"

"Not every day, Blaine, but maybe a few times a week would be nice. I miss that intimacy with you. I miss being close to you that way. You used to be as eager as I am for sex. I don't know what happened."

"Well, I'd tell you, but then you'd scream, and I already have a headache from Santana and Rachel."

Kurt fell silent for a minute before he stopped walking, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Are you seriously this tired from classes? I'm not wanting to come across accusatory, I'm just honestly curious. Is this something I need to be concerned about?"

"Is your sex addiction something I need to be concerned about?" Blaine asked.

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "Blaine, I'm not joking. Are you okay? Is there something I'm missing here?"

Blaine stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and brushed his fingers over the raised lines on his thighs. "No. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Look, I'm just adjusting to college, okay? Going to a performing arts school takes a lot out of you. You know that."

"I do, but I'm not as tired as you are."

"You've had time to get used to it. I haven't."

Kurt sighed and bit his lip. "I'm sorry. This isn't even about sex, not really. I mean, it kind of is, but it isn't at the same time."

"I'm starting to feel really weird about having this conversation in public. Can we just finish this once we get to my apartment?"

"Sure."

Blaine continued down the sidewalk, waiting for Kurt to start walking beside him. He jumped a little when Kurt reached for his hand and threaded their fingers together but didn't say anything. When they made it to Blaine's apartment twenty minutes later, all the lights were off. Just to be sure, Blaine called out for Sam and Mercedes when they walked in, but no one answered.

"And here we are alone again," Kurt said.

Blaine gave him a look. "Seriously? Already? After what we just discussed?"

"I wasn't trying to imply anything! I was reveling in the quiet. You know, not everything I do or say is about sex."

"I'm starting to think otherwise."

"I see we're picking up right where we left off," Kurt muttered.

Blaine clenched his jaw and took a deep breath in through his nose. "You know, not even a month ago I had to move out because you thought I was too clingy. Now I've been trying to pull back and give you your space and you're saying I'm being too distant. I just can't win with you."

"I'm just looking for balance, Blaine. Do I want to spend time with you? Yes. Do I want some of that time to be intimate? Yes. Do I want to spend every waking minute with you? Honestly, no. But you can't say you want to spend every waking minute with me either. We'd kill each other. Couples need to have lives independent of their relationship."

"Right, except when you have a life independent of your relationship it's okay, but when I do it I'm being 'distant,'" Blaine said, using air-quotes.

Kurt frowned and scoffed in disgust, crossing his arms "Oh, god, don't use air-quotes at me."

"What's wrong with air-quotes?"

"They're tacky."

"They're a gesture used in speech."

"They're _tacky._"

Blaine paused. "Have we seriously progressed to arguing about air-quotes? Is that where this is going?"

Kurt took a second, too, mouth setting in a thin line before answering. "You're right. This is pointless now."

"Bottom line. Go," Blaine said. (Bottom line was when they wanted to end an argument that had veered off track, so they stated their core point as a sort of conclusion).

"Bottom line: We need to find a balance. I understand that I can be seen as a little wishy-washy, but it's because I'm trying to get us to a good middle ground. We were spending too much time together before and now I feel like we're not spending enough time together. It's not just about sex, though that would be nice seeing as how I haven't touched your dick in two weeks. I just want to feel close to you again because I feel like I've lost that now that we're living apart."

Blaine took a moment to let Kurt's words sink in. He had a point, several actually, and Blaine knew it. But he couldn't do much about it, not when he still had fresh lines on his thighs.

"Bottom line: You've had a year to adjust to living here in New York and five months to get used to the NYADA schedule. I haven't. I'm still getting used to things here and it's draining a lot of my energy. I'm sorry you feel like I've been distant, but I'm honestly just tired. I will try to make more of an effort to spend significant time with you."

Kurt nodded, uncrossing his arms and relaxing his body. "Make up sex?"

"Make up cuddles and then sex? We didn't get to finish watching the movie so I didn't get my full cuddle time."

Blaine could tell that Kurt wanted to argue again, but he didn't. He smiled and said, "Okay."

So they went over to the couch and Blaine clicked on the TV and put it on TLC and then set the remote on the coffee table. Kurt sat horizontal on the couch, back resting against the armrest and legs open. Blaine came and crawled in between them, resting his back against Kurt's chest and letting his arms fall on Kurt's legs.

They laid like that for a while; Blaine let Kurt's fingers breach the gel helmet to give him a scalp rub, which always made him sleepy. He vaguely heard a girl on _Say Yes to the Dress _crying because her older brother committed suicide and wouldn't be able to make it to the wedding, but he was half-asleep and not really paying attention.

He jolted to full consciousness, though, when Kurt jumped underneath him. "Oh my god."

Blaine frowned as he sat up and turned around to look at Kurt. "What?"

"Oh my god."

_"What_?"

"That's what it is, isn't it? Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't—I'm the world's worst fiancé, I—"

"Kurt, you're not making any sense. What's wrong?"

"You're cutting again, aren't you? That's what this is about. That's why you won't have sex with me. You don't want me to see it."

Blaine froze. Warmth crept up his neck and cheeks and his heart thudded in his chest but he was too paralyzed to say anything.

His face said everything, though. Kurt scrambled to sit up and wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, holding him tightly and leaning his forehead against Blaine's shoulder. "Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't see this. How was I so_stupid_?"

"You're not stupid, Kurt. You didn't know because I didn't want you to."

"How long?" Kurt asked, pulling away.

"It's not really like that. It's only happened twice. I just didn't want you to find out."

"Blaine, what did we say? What did we agree on when I found out two years ago? And again when I found out you'd started doing it again earlier this year?"

Blaine sighed. "We agreed that if I ever had the urge to hurt myself, I'd call you and we'd work through it together."

"And did you call me?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But nothing, Blaine. What happened?"

"I've just been really stressed, okay?" Blaine said. He pulled away from Kurt and scooted down the couch a little. "With the classes at NYADA and fighting with you all the time… I wasn't lying when I said I'm tired, Kurt. I'm tired physically and emotionally and mentally. It was just two slip ups. There aren't even that many cuts, so you really don't need to freak out."

Kurt frowned. "Blaine, it doesn't matter if it's one or one hundred cuts. Of course I'm going to be concerned. The desire to hurt yourself worries me no matter how it manifests."

"You sound like my shrink," Blaine grumbled.

"You know, maybe that's not such a bad idea. Maybe you need to find a therapist here."

Blaine sighed and stood up from the couch. "Jesus, Kurt, it's not that serious, okay? Can we just drop this?"

"We've been fighting about nothing all day and now when we're finally talking about the root of it all you want me to drop it? Are you insane?"

"Well you want me to go to therapy so you must think I am!"

"Honey, this isn't about you being crazy. You're not. I'm just concerned for you. I don't want this to spiral out of control like it did before." Kurt paused, biting his lip. "Can I see them?"

Blaine opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. It wasn't an outrageous request, not with them. Ever since Blaine told Kurt about his problem during Blaine's junior year, he'd been open about it with him. Kurt had seen every scar, kissed them all a hundred times over. Even the new ones, as they came. He'd have tears in his eyes but he'd kiss them none the less.

So Blaine unbuckled his belt and his pants and slid them down mid-thigh, pushing his underwear down with them. Kurt came over and knelt in front of him, pursing his lips and frowning at the new cuts on each thigh. "Oh, Blaine."

"I told you it wasn't that bad."

"And instead of letting me help, you pushed me away. Why? I thought we were passed that."

"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me."

Kurt stood up and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. "Never. I know this is hard. I know there's not an easy fix for it. I just wish you'd let me help you. You used to, remember? What's different now?"

"I don't know. I guess…I guess I just feel like there's this barrier between us now that I've moved out." He pushed Kurt away a little so he could look him in the eyes. "And I'm not saying it's either of our faults, I'm just saying it's there. I feel like our dynamic has shifted since we got here. You've gotten so much stronger now, and I…I didn't want to seem weak by coming to you with this. Not when it's been so long since I've had to." He grabbed his pants and underwear and pulled them back up, re-fastening them.

Kurt touched his shoulder and said, "Blaine, it doesn't matter if it's been a couple weeks or a couple years. You can always come to me with this. I _want _you to come to me with this."

Blaine nodded but didn't trust himself to say more.

It wasn't a big deal. Really. It was a few cuts after a dance class with Cassandra July, a couple cuts after he moved out of the loft with Kurt and into the apartment with Sam and Mercedes. Small instances. Nothing to worry about. Which is why he didn't bother telling Kurt at all, because Kurt had his life together and Blaine didn't and Kurt didn't need to be dragged down now. Not when he'd fought so hard to get to this place.

No, Blaine couldn't burden him with this. He'd either have to be more careful about it or not do it at all. He knew which one he'd rather do, but he knew which one he had to do.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll come to you if I need you."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I'm so sorry, Blaine. I should've known, should've guessed that was why you didn't want to be intimate with me. I've been so selfish, and I'm—"

"Please stop apologizing," Blaine said. He wanted to add _You're only making me feel worse _but he decided against it. Kurt would only worry even more and apologize even _more _and that was the opposite of what Blaine wanted.

Kurt gave him a sad smile. "Okay. I just… I feel bad. For fighting with you all day. If I'd have known…"

"Kurt, you can still fight with me even if I've slipped up in this. You know that. No eggshells, remember? You promised that at the very beginning."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"I just worry, Blaine. You're the love of my life and you're hurting and you won't let me help. I'm allowed to worry."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him back over to the couch. "How about this: I promise to not shut you out anymore if you promise to not freak out when I do open up to you."

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded, smiling. "I can do that."

"Okay. Good."

"I feel bad for fighting with you today now."

"It's okay. We're over it now."

"Still… Can I make it up to you?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Kurt, seriously. You need to see someone about your sex addiction. It's getting out of control."

"I didn't mean that! I was referring to a shoulder massage and more cuddles, since you seem to be in an awfully cuddly mood today."

"Oh. Well, then yes. That…sounds really nice, actually."

Kurt smirked as he sat back against the couch again, beckoning Blaine over. "See? I can be nice sometimes. It's not always about sex."

"It's usually about sex."

"I am a twenty-year-old man with a hot fiancé. It is about sex an appropriate amount of time."

"If you say so." Blaine leaned into Kurt's hands as they started kneading his shoulders and the back of his neck. "That feels really good, Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You have a ton of knots. You're carrying too much stress, Blaine."

"We already established that."

"I know, but I mean, maybe you should do something. Pick up boxing again or start doing water aerobics or something."

"As if I'm not already tired enough," Blaine said, dropping his head forward.

Kurt worked on a knot just below Blaine's neck and to the right. "There are things you can cut back on at NYADA, you know. You don't _have _to be every girl's scene partner in your class."

"But they all ask so nicely."

"Honey, there are other men at the school. Just say no."

"You say that like it's easy."

"It is. You say no to me all the time."

"That's different. You're easy to say no to because I know you'll love me anyway. Other people aren't like that."

Kurt kissed the back of Blaine's neck. "You're a very lovable person, baby. You need to stop worrying about other people and start worrying about yourself. It's okay to put yourself first sometimes, you know."

It wasn't the first time Kurt had said that to him, but it was the first time Blaine really considered it as a viable option. At this point, he didn't have much of a choice. All of the outside rehearsals were a major drain on his energy and time and left him barely anything for Kurt or for himself. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to pull back.

He could tell people no. Or he could try it, at least. If they didn't like him anymore, so what? He still had a fiancé who loved him, though he wondered why every day.

The whole reason Blaine had kept his slip ups a secret was because he'd thought Kurt would be mad. Blaine thought Kurt would yell, much like he did earlier, but he didn't. Instead, he was calm (for the most part) and patient and understanding. Blaine was struck again with how much he loved this man.

"I love you so much," he said.

He could hear the smile in Kurt's voice when he answered, "I love you too."

They would find something new to fight about soon, Blaine was sure, but they'd work it out. They always did.


	60. Some people are worth melting for

_Summary: Kurt comforting Blaine when he really, really wants to hurt himself. TW: discussions of self-harm/cutting. _

_Yes, the title is from Frozen. Deal with it._

_This can be in the same verse as Shake It Out, but you don't have to have read that drabble to read this one._

… … …

He's rocking back and forth on the floor by his bed, anxiously rubbing his hands over his knees again and again. He doesn't want to do it. Well, he does. If he's honest with himself, right now, he really, _really _does. But he doesn't because he has Kurt in his life now and Kurt would be disappointed in him and he doesn't want that, not when Kurt has been so understanding about this.

His parents are gone now; he heard them slam the door when they left. Well, when his dad left. His mom left shortly after, heels clicking on the marble floor in the foyer, closing the door shut gently behind her so as not to ruin the mahogany and the stained glass art above the door frame.

Blaine stands up and starts pacing across his carpet, rubbing his hands together and trying to keep the jitters at bay. It isn't working. He can feel his hands shaking. He has to get it together, he _has _to. He's supposed to be getting better, not just for Kurt but for himself. Kurt had said that he could call him and they'd work through this together, but he doesn't know if Kurt quite knows what he's getting himself into with that offer and he doesn't want to put that kind of pressure on his boyfriend.

Still, if he doesn't do something soon, he's going to go to his top bedside drawer and pull out his art knife and it's not going to help anything it's going to hurt _but it's going to hurt so good _no it's not it's going to be bad very bad and he has to stop _he has to stop. _

He makes the decision and grabs his phone from the bed, dials Kurt's number that he's memorized by heart and waits for an answer.

_"Hello?"_

Blaine isn't able to answer at first, and he doesn't realize it but he's actually started to cry. He'd thought that was just the sweat but now that's sweat _and _tears and _god _how far gone is he?

_"Blaine, are you there? Or did you butt dial me again?" _There's a teasing tone to his voice, and Blaine knows that the second he answers he's going to shatter whatever good mood Kurt is in.

"Um, yeah, I'm here."

_"Oh, good. What's up? You don't usually call so late."_

"Yeah, I, uh… I had a fight. With my parents."

_"Oh." _He can hear it, then. The change in Kurt's tone. And it kills him that he does this, that he ruins happiness for others. _"Are you okay?"_

"Um… Not really? It was…it was kind of a big fight. It, um, it was about you, and our future, and how I intend to marry you at some point, you know, because we're us and we're forever and— But my parents, they freaked out. My dad started yelling about how he didn't raise me to be this way and my mom was crying and saying it isn't God's way and I'm going to hell and—"

_"Okay, okay, honey—_breathe. _You have to breathe for me, okay? You're hyperventilating and I don't want you to pass out before I have a chance to get there. Well, I don't want you to pass out at all, but—"_

"Wait, before you get here? Are you coming over?"

_"Of course I am. You're upset."_

"No, Kurt, you don't have to. It's late and you shouldn't—"

_"I don't care. Blaine, you're hurting, and I'm going to be there for you."_

Blaine sniffles and wipes at his eyes. He's in no condition to see Kurt, and there's no telling when his parents will be back, but there's no way he's going to survive the night on his own. Usually going to sleep and just ignoring everything helps but tonight he's too worked up. "Okay, um, just use the spare key under the mat."

_"Gotcha. Just hang in there, baby, alright? I'll be there in 15 minutes."_

"Okay."

_"Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? I can put you on speaker in the cupholder."_

"Um…" Blaine knows he should say no so that Kurt can focus on driving, but there's no telling what will happen if they hang up. If he stays on the line, he knows he won't do anything bad. He'd feel too guilty about doing it with Kurt listening in, even if Kurt wouldn't hear anything. "Yeah, if you could. I don't want you to endanger yourself but—"

_"It's fine. I'll be safe, I promise. I have to get to you, don't I?"_

Even through his tears Blaine smiles a little at that. "Yeah."

He sits on his bed to wait, but he's shaking so much that the bed frame is making annoying noises and it's making him sick with the tiny, consistent motion, so he stands and starts pacing again. Except then he gets dizzy from walking around in a tight oval around his carpet and his feet drag and get carpet burn. So he lays down on his back on the floor and looks up at his ceiling and starts studying the pattern of the molding when he hears the front door open.

He tenses, because it could be his parents, but then his bedroom door opens and Kurt walks in and he relaxes into the floor again. Well, as much as he can. His body is still vibrating and he feels like a shaken up soda bottle ready to explode at any second.

"Hey," Kurt says softly, coming to lie down on the floor next to Blaine. "Are you okay?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly? Or do you want me to make you feel comfortable?"

"Blaine, you know you can be honest with me."

"Then no, I'm not."

Kurt sits up and pats his lap, so Blaine sits up and climbs into it. He's shaking still, and he knows it, but being held is helping. Kurt's warm hands hold securely to his back and he feels comfortable dropping his face into Kurt's neck and inhaling the scent there, letting himself calm down just from Kurt's presence.

"What can I do?" Kurt asks. "Do you need me to do anything?"

Blaine hesitates. He does, but he doesn't want to worry Kurt, but Kurt is probably already worried anyway and it's about time someone addresses the elephant in the room. "Um. Could you go in my drawer and take out my art knife?"

When Kurt pulls away, he's biting the inside of his cheek and Blaine knows he's dying to say something but trying to be gentle. "Sure."

Blaine climbs off his lap and watches as Kurt goes across the room and finds the knife and takes it out. He holds it in his hand, temporarily at a loss for what to do, before he goes to where he'd dropped his book bag by the door and stores it in there.

"Thank you," Blaine says.

Kurt nods and comes to sit back on the floor with Blaine. He takes Blaine's hands and holds them tight, not even reacting to how sweaty Blaine knows his palms are. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I, um… I don't really know."

"Okay."

"I—" Blaine breaks off and frowns to himself. He realizes he hasn't been shaking as much since Kurt got here and he isn't crying anymore. "I think just having you around is helping. Just knowing that there's someone who cares."

"Of course, Blaine. I love you. I will always care about you."

Blaine gives a little half-smile and says, "Can we cuddle on my bed?"

"Sure."

Since he doesn't know when his parents are going to be home, and the _last _thing he needs is them walking in on him sleeping in bed with his boyfriend, he goes over and closes his door and locks it. Then he climbs up on his bed with Kurt, draping himself across Kurt's chest and shivering when Kurt starts dragging his fingernails up and down his back.

"That feels good." He tilts his head up to meet Kurt's eyes and says, "Thank you for doing this for me. I don't… I didn't think anyone would ever care enough to… Just. Thank you."

"Blaine, you don't have to thank me. This is what I'm here for, okay? No matter what time of day or night, no matter where we are. I can't guarantee I'll be able to come right over every time, but I am always just a phone call away to help you."

"I know. I know, and you told me that when you found out, I just… It's hard. Being open about this with someone."

Kurt kisses Blaine's forehead. "I know. But I'm glad you're trusting me enough to be open about it with me."

"I didn't want to do it. Cut, I mean. I didn't want to do it tonight. But that thing with my parents just got be so overwhelming and it stirred up a lot of stuff from Sadie Hawkins and some of the stuff my parents said were _exactly _what those jocks said when they were bashing me and… I couldn't help it. I started freaking out and I didn't do anything, Kurt, I swear. I just called you."

"And that's a really big deal, Blaine. That you would call me instead of just giving in. I hope you know that. I'm really proud of you and I think you should be proud of yourself."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. You're doing really well, baby. You don't give yourself enough credit."

Blaine kisses Kurt's chest over his shirt and cuddles closer, settling his head down and closing his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't even think about it, okay? I said I love you and that's forever."

Blaine smiles. "And this I promise from the heart?"

"I really do," Kurt says, and Blaine can hear the smile in his voice and it makes him happy.

He thinks about how his parents managed to ruin his mood and his happiness in a matter of minutes, but Kurt has been able to bring his mood back up in the same amount of time. He's still uneasy, thoughts still lingering at Kurt's book bag where he knows his knife is. His skin is still itching with the sensation of needing to be cut open.

But Kurt is holding him so tenderly, scratching his back and sending tingles up Blaine's spine and into his scalp. It's a whole different sensation than the one cutting gives him, and it's so much more pleasant. It's warm in a way that isn't tangible and it's soft in a way that makes his heart grow in his chest. And he knows that no matter how much his parents try to tear him down, he finally has someone now to build him back up.

He doesn't have to rely on the cool, harsh sensation of a blade dragging against his skin. He can rely on the gentle, loving sensation of fingertips dragging lightly across the expanse of his back, making his toes curl and his body quiver.

"I love you so much," he says. His voice is thick with the intensity of just how much he truly loves this man holding him, this man that has come to his rescue and helped him when he wasn't able to help himself.

"I love you too," Kurt says, and even though it's soft there's something fierce about it.

They have a love that has a quiet intensity. A low, burning sensation that gives them peaceful moments like this and passionate moments like when Kurt has Blaine pinned against the wall and is mouthing at his neck.

They have a love that makes Blaine forget all about the knife, and about the fight, and about all the people that have ever made him feel small. Because Kurt makes him feel like the most important, the most loved, the most cherished person to ever live, and that's something no one and nothing else will ever give him.


	61. Changes, Choices, Chances

_Summary: Fill for BPOTD 767, Mpreg!Blaine, Kurt broke off the engagement and left Blaine. Three years later, Kurt's at a strip club for his bachelor party and sees Blaine working. Blaine's been working there and enduring uncomfortable glances and touches for a year to make sure that his son was properly cared for._

_This has been prompted to me by 4 anons and edgar-always-edgar over on Tumblr. It includes mpreg and bp (boypussy), so if you don't like either one, that's okay! Just skip this one. :) _

_I kind of tweaked the timeline a little and just set their break up where it was in canon, 4x04. I'd already written it that way when I realized that wasn't the original prompt and it would've been too much work to change it._

… … …

The harsh stage lights made things easier, Blaine thought. He didn't have to look at the faces of the men he danced for. He didn't have to see their leering, the way their eyes lingered on his body and made their way down, leaving a slimy trail of imaginary filth in their wake. Every night when he got home, Blaine always took a shower that lasted at least an hour. The babysitter, Ariel, was gracious enough to stay until Blaine got out of the shower. She was only 15, but she knew what he did for a living. He came home with glitter and a duffle bag every night and she'd accidentally found his costume drawer when she was doing laundry to help out one weekend. Plus, Blaine had given her the address and phone number of the club for emergencies, and she'd actually used it a couple times.

It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was what Blaine had. Ever since Aaron came along, Blaine had had to take his life into his own hands, because it wasn't just his anymore. His relationship with his parents was already flimsy at best before Aaron, and after they found out about the pregnancy it was the last straw. Blaine was out on his ass the second he told them.

Of course, they let him back in for a little while. They agreed that it wasn't safe for Blaine or the baby to be out on their own, and even though they no longer considered Blaine to be their family or acknowledged the baby—simply referring to it as "the fetus"—his mom convinced his dad that it was the "Christian thing to do" to let Blaine stay for a week until he could figure out what his next move would be. A week wasn't enough time, not even close, but Blaine was 18 and he knew he had to think of something quick. He was driving around Columbus trying to figure out what to do when he saw it.

The spotlight.

It was like a sick beacon.

He drove towards the spotlight and stepped inside and knew he'd found his place, as sick as it was. He knew he'd make enough money to support Aaron and himself on their own at a strip joint and it seemed like his only option. It was called Freaks and Kinks, and when Blaine came in inquiring about a job and warning the manager that he was pregnant, the manager—Gary—actually laughed in his face and said, "Kid, you're perfect."

Blaine had quickly asked for the bathroom and vomited, and he knew deep down it wasn't from the pregnancy.

… … …

"Guys, come on, is this really necessary?"

"It's ritual for a guy to go to a strip club for his bachelor party, Kurt. Everyone knows that!"

Kurt shoved Puck and shook his head. "But I don't _want _to go to a strip club. Isn't the bachelor party supposed to be about the groom?"

"Not if the groom is _boring _like you!"

"Okay, I'm not boring for wanting to go to a bar."

"A strip club is basically a bar with better entertainment."

Kurt rolled his eyes and fell back, letting Puck and Ben talk ahead of him while he hung back with Luke. "Tell me I'm not the only one who would rather just go to a normal bar."

"Sorry, man," Luke laughed. "I'm not opposed to strippers."

"They're not even female."

"Hey, I can appreciate an aesthetically pleasing body when I see one."

"Ugh."

Luke laughed again and looped their arms together. Luke was a friend Kurt had made right after the break up with Blaine. He was an assistant at Vogue to one of the higher ups. He'd come over and sat next to Kurt on their lunch break one day, noticing how down Kurt was, and they'd been friends ever since. Luke helped Kurt bounce back and showed him that life was still worth living even without Blaine.

Of course, Kurt had had a crush on him once he'd really recovered, and since they both worked at a fashion website Kurt just assumed that Luke was gay. So, on one of their nights out at a gay bar, Kurt drunkenly kissed him. Luke pulled back and laughed and said, "Uh… I'm straight. You know that, right?"

Kurt was _mortified. _How could he not be? Luke had been taking him to all these gay bars and they worked together and Kurt just _assumed _but then Luke explained that he was just taking Kurt to those places because he was trying to cheer him up and he worked at a fashion magazine's website because he liked clothing. It was a long, halted conversation that left Kurt feeling embarrassed and empty again and Luke being overly apologetic. They didn't talk again for a week but then Luke left a memo on Kurt's desk that said _Felix's at eight? _and Kurt knew they'd be alright.

"Oh my god," Kurt groaned, reading the sign of the strip club. "You're taking us to a place called _Freaks and Kinks? _Are you kidding me? Is this some BDSM club? What do you think I'm into, Puck?"

Puck grinned and said, "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"It's definitely not going to be anything in here, I can assure you."

"Oh, come on. This is Ohio. Gay sex is considered a kink. Just give it a shot!"

"Have you been here before?"

"No, but I've seen awesome reviews online."

"Dear lord. What are you getting us into?" Kurt muttered, following them in.

He liked having a small groomsmen gang because it felt like something they were doing for fun amongst the three of them, instead of something disingenuous where Kurt had cousins and half-cousins up there with him. After Finn's passing, of course Puck would have to be up there. He brought along Finn's spirit. Luke was a no-brainer because they'd been close since before Kurt even met John. Benjamin was a bit of an odd ball, but Kurt had really hit it off with him after John introduced them to the point where now Kurt was closer friends with Ben than John was.

Ben liked to tease them both about it when they had one of their wine-and-cheese nights.

The first thing Kurt noticed walking into the club was the smell. Sweat and sex. That was the only way to describe it. There were lots of lights, most of them colored with various gels to make the room more exciting, Kurt supposed. There was a stage that came out into a runway, and a tall, metal pole that connected from floor to ceiling at each end.

Puck led them over to a roped off reserved section right at the end of the runway.

"Seriously, Puck? You called ahead and reserved this? This was an actual plan you've had for longer than thirty minutes?" Kurt asked.

Puck grinned and pulled out the chair with the best view of the stage, gesturing for Kurt to sit down. "Luke said he was gonna plan a bar-hopping trip and Benny Boy suggested we rent a hotel room and drink alcohol by ourselves. Like minors. I was deeply disheartened by your groomsmen choices and took matters into my own hands."

"Right," Kurt said, rolling his eyes as he sat down.

He hadn't specified a best man, since without Finn it just didn't feel right, so responsibilities were delegated evenly among the three groomsmen.

Luke sat on his left, Puck sat on his right, and Ben sat next to Luke. They were seated around a round table, but Kurt's chair was the one directly facing the stage. The lights flickered a few times before a deep voice came onto the microphone.

"Alright, alright, gentlemen. The next guy we have for you is a real crowd-pleaser, a real _lady's _man, if you catch my drift." The other people cheered, and Kurt looked around, feeling like he was missing something. Wasn't this a gay strip club? "So without further adu, here is Baby Blaine!"

Kurt frowned, already turned off. "Guys, maybe we should just leave."

"Oh, come on. Because the stripper has the same name as your ex?" Luke asked, rolling his eyes. "These guys don't even use their real names."

"Quit being such a pussy and enjoy the show, Hummel," Puck said, waving over a bartender and ordering them a round of shots.

The curtains opened and out walked a guy in a Catholic school girl's uniform, which was odd enough. Kurt didn't expect to see a guy in a skirt here, but there he was. The lights were pretty dim and he couldn't see who the performer was yet, but the man slinked across to the pole at stage left, grabbing on and leaning back. He let his head hang back, exposing his neck and the top of his chest peeking out from the unbuttoned white uniform shirt and loose black and pink tie.

The man's black, gelled hair seemed awfully familiar, but Kurt pushed the thoughts away. It was a mere coincidence. Lots of men had dark hair and lots of men gelled it down. Blaine was a normal enough name, though not common enough that Kurt had ever ran into one after _his _Blaine.

Still. It had to be pure coincidence. There was no way.

Then the man started let go of the pole and fell to the ground and fanned out his legs, exposing a very obvious pussy in a g-string. Kurt's jaw almost hit the ground. The stage lights brightened and the guy stood up and started walking towards the runway and Kurt knew for sure.

That was Blaine. _His _Blaine.

No, not his Blaine. Not anymore. Because this guy prancing around onstage in a skirt at a strip joint showing his private parts to a bunch of strangers was not his Blaine. And besides, Blaine wasn't even his anymore. They hadn't seen each other or spoken to each other in three years now.

"Um… Is that—"

"Yes," Kurt said quickly, cutting Puck off. "And don't you dare say a word."

He stood up and headed over to the bar, catching the bartender's attention. "Could I speak with the manager please?"

The bartender pointed down the bar to a man standing by a back door. Kurt headed over there and said, "Excuse me. I can request a private dance, correct?"

"If the price is right. Who ya wantin'?"

Kurt pointed to the stage. "Blaine."

"You mean Baby Blaine. He's on high demand, sweetheart. What're you givin' me?"

"How much is it?" The manager gave him a pointed look and Kurt huffed. "Find. Is 300 in the right neighborhood?"

The manager looked him up and down and said, "It'll do." He stuck his hand out.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him as he pulled three one-hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and placed them in the manager's palm. "Here."

"Go to the last room on the right. Baby Blaine will be in when he's done onstage." He stepped aside and opened the door for Kurt.

Kurt headed inside, going to the end of the hall and opening the last door on the right. It was seedy and sleazy and every other awful strip club stereotype Kurt had ever imagined. He took a seat on the sapphire, velvet, cushioned bench and waited.

The whole time he waited he couldn't keep still. His legs bounced up and down and his fingers drummed against his thighs and he looked all around the room, unable to find a spot to focus on. All he could think about was what Blaine was doing in a _strip club. _And not even in the audience, like Kurt. But onstage. _Performing. _

_What happened to you, Blaine? How did you end up here? The break up was hard, sure, but I bounced back. I _moved on. _I thought you'd do the same._

The door clicked open and in walked Blaine. He didn't even look at Kurt. His voice was hollow as he said, "Touching is gonna cost extra, so if you wanna finger me you have to give me another two-hundred."

And god, the words were heartbreaking enough, but the absolute _hollowness _to his voice shattered something inside Kurt that he'd thought he'd managed to fix long ago.

"Blaine."

"It's Baby Blai—" He frowned, blinking his eyes as he looked up. "K-Kurt?"

Kurt stood up and shrugged. "Hi."

"Um." Blaine didn't go on, so Kurt waited, trying to give Blaine a chance to collect himself and let the shock die down. Kurt wasn't sure his own shock had worn off but at least he could form sentences. "I don't really know what to say."

"You could start with hi," Kurt suggested.

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed further. "Is this…funny? To you?" He shook his head and laughed humorlessly. "You know, I should've known this would happen. That after what I did to you, after all this time, you'd come here to taunt me. It's what I deserve, after what happened."

Kurt frowned, shaking his head and taking a step toward Blaine. "No, Blaine, that's not— I wasn't trying to joke around, I was trying to make you more comfortable. This… I never wanted this for you."

They stood in awkward silence. Kurt itched to say something more, to ask a hundred questions and then a hundred more. But he wanted Blaine to have control more, because it seemed that Blaine had little control over anything in his life these days.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked.

Kurt bit his lip and glanced down. "Um… It's my bachelor party, actually."

"Oh. That, uh… Congratulations, I guess."

"Blaine—"

"No, it's okay. We broke up. You had the right to move on."

"It isn't like that," Kurt said, looking back up at Blaine. "I just… I had to move on, Blaine. I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," Blaine said. He locked eyes with Kurt. "I chose to cheat on you. I chose to have…this job. There are always choices, Kurt."

"So tell me about yours," Kurt said, sitting down on the cushioned bench again. "Tell me about how you got here."

"I'd rather not."

"Why not?"

Blaine sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "Not to be blunt, but it's not really any of your business anymore."

Oh. Of course. Kurt should've known, really. Here he'd been thinking he'd just be able to sit down and talk with Blaine and find out all about his life like they still knew each other, but they didn't. This new man in front of him, more filled out but hollow at the same time, was not the man Kurt had loved years before. This was someone completely different. Blaine had changed so much and Kurt didn't know what to make of it.

There was a knock on the door and Blaine called out, "I'll be done in a second, Tony!"

"Blaine, your babysitter's got your kid here. _Again. _You know I can't have minors here."

Blaine froze, and Kurt froze, and it felt like all time and life on earth froze. Kurt gawked at Blaine, jaw slack and eyes wide. Blaine avoided eye contact, pinching the bridge of his nose as he said, "Alright. I'll be out in a minute."

"_Now, _Blaine."

"You have a kid?" Kurt asked. "Is it…?"

Blaine swallowed and kept his eyes intently focused on the floor. "I have to go."

"Blaine, wait—"

"I can't, Kurt. Ariel has Aaron at the door and I can't let my son into a place like this. Especially at his age."

"How old is he?"

"…He's two and a half. Look, I don't have time to discuss this with you, I have to go. I…" Blaine finally looked up at him. "I guess I have to give you an explanation now. I'll meet up with you tomorrow at a coffee shop, alright? The one on Main Street, by the Target. It'll have to be evening, before my shift, so Ariel can take care of Aaron."

"But tomorrow's my wedding day," Kurt said.

Blaine flinched. "Oh. Right. Um…"

"You know what? It's fine," Kurt said. The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. "I'll be there."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. Go take care of…Aaron, was it?"

"…Yeah."

"Go get Aaron. I'm assuming your babysitter wouldn't have brought him if it wasn't an emergency. I'll be there tomorrow."

"Kurt…"

"_Go."_

Blaine licked his lips, staring at Kurt with an expression Kurt didn't recognize before opening the door and disappearing through it.

As quickly as Blaine had disappeared from Kurt's life, he'd reappeared, just like that. In a skirt and glitter and with a _son, _no less.

Kurt had no idea what possessed him to say he'd be at the coffee shop the next day. There was no way, because he was getting married. He couldn't blow off his own wedding. Besides, he loved John now. He loved Blaine before, but he loved John now. He couldn't ruin his relationship—his _marriage_—over a boy he loved years ago.

And yet, Kurt knew he was going to. Because as hard as he tried, he knew he'd never stopped loving Blaine. Not really.

… … …

Blaine alternated between glancing at the clock and the door of the coffee shop every five seconds or so. He and Kurt hadn't specified a time, and Kurt was supposed to be getting _married _for christ's sake. Why the hell would he show up at a coffee shop to see his ex-boyfriend turned teenage dad and stripper? Kurt was probably embarrassed and disappointed. He wouldn't want to see Blaine again, especially on his wedding day.

Still.

_Don't worry about it. I'll be there._

That's the last thing Kurt had said to him. Even after he found out who Blaine was, and where he worked, and that he had a _kid. _Blaine knew that Kurt wanted to know if it was his, but he didn't want to answer at the time. Not then, not there, not when they wouldn't have the chance to talk. That's why he'd offered to meet at the coffee shop, to explain everything to Kurt now that he didn't have a choice.

Well, that wasn't true. There was always a choice. That's what he'd told Kurt. Blaine chose not to tell Kurt about the pregnancy, or reach out after the baby was born. He chose to work at a strip joint to put food on the table for his son and a roof over their heads. It wasn't so bad. Blaine made enough money for them to live comfortably, sickeningly enough. He was a real crowd pleaser.

Minute after minute ticked by, and Blaine was still at the coffee shop alone. He'd been waiting an hour and the sun was starting to go down. He'd have to get to Freaks and Kinks before long. He resigned himself to the fact that Kurt wasn't coming, that he had a good life now and a fiance—or husband, by now—and he didn't need Blaine messing that up. He stood, grabbing his now empty coffee cup and Kurt's full, cold one, heading for the trash can by the door. He'd just dumped them in when the door opened.

"Oh. Am I late?"

Blaine looked up to see Kurt's eyes on him and momentarily lost his ability to breathe. Even now, Kurt still had the ability to make his heart stop. They'd both changed so much but there were still things that would never change.

"No, I just—"

"Assumed I wasn't coming? We didn't specify a time, so…"

"No, you're fine. We can go order more coffee. These will be on me."

"O-Okay." Blaine followed Kurt to stand at the register. There wasn't a line anymore since the shop would be closing soon. "Where does your husband think you are?"

"He's not my husband," Kurt said calmly.

Blaine bit his lip. "So you postponed the wedding? Because of me?"

"No. I called off the wedding. Because of me." Kurt smiled at the barista when she came over and gave her their order like he hadn't just dropped an atomic bomb.

Blaine frowned, waiting until Kurt was done with the barista before saying, "Wait, you called off the wedding?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I have a son," Kurt said. He glanced over at Blaine, and Blaine was too shocked to even try and school his face.

"Who—? I never said it was yours."

"You didn't have to." Kurt took the two cups of coffee from the barista and handed one to Blaine. "What table were you sitting at?"

Blaine led the way over to his table and sat back down. "How—How can you be so calm about all this?"

"All what, Blaine? Seeing you again? Seeing you again as a stripper? Learning that I have a son? Calling off my wedding and having to explain all of this to my loving and devoted fiance?"

Blaine glanced down at his coffee cup, spinning it on the table top. The guilt weighed so heavily on him he didn't trust himself to speak. Fingertips brushed against his and he looked up to see Kurt reaching out a hand toward him.

"It's okay," Kurt said. "Really."

"How is any of this okay?"

"I'm here, aren't I? I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"Kurt, _how _are you here?"

Kurt took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before lifting the coffee cup to his lips and taking a long drink from it. "That's kind of why I'm late. After I saw you last night, I went back to the table and told the guys I had to go. Puck says hi, by the way."

Blaine groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. "Puck was there?"

"Yep."

"So he saw me—"

"Yep."

"Oh, god."

"He didn't say much. I think he was too shocked. Anyway, so I went right home after that and called John—"

"His name's John?"

"Yeah. So I called him all the way home and he finally picked up and I said I needed to talk to him and… Anyway, we met up at the apartment and I told him about running into you and finding out you have a kid and how, given the timeline, I'm pretty sure I'm the other father. So we spent all night talking about it and then spent the day arguing about it." Kurt paused to rub his temples, and it was only then that Blaine noticed how truly tired he looked. He'd been so distracted by Kurt's presence that he hadn't really taken the time to notice the dark circles under Kurt's eyes or the limp quality of his hair. "I haven't slept at all. He kept trying to convince me that we could still have the wedding, that it wasn't an issue, that we could work it out, but…"

"But what?"

Kurt scrunched his nose and shook his head. "I, um… Your turn. Tell me about…what happened."

Blaine wanted to press Kurt further, to find out more, but he knew his side was long overdue. About three years. "So, you know we broke up because I…I slept with someone else. How are you sure Aaron's yours?"

"Because the timing's off. Unless you slept with him three months before you came to tell me, which I highly doubt you did."

"No. I didn't."

"Plus, I know you. I don't think you would've had unprotected sex with a stranger."

"He wasn't a stranger. He was a friend of a friend."

Kurt waved his hand in dismissal. "Details."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, um, so…yeah. He's yours. Um, when I found out I was pregnant—after we broke up—I didn't know what to do. I tried to call you and text you and email you, but you weren't speaking to me, and I didn't know how to get to you. So I just stopped trying. I had other things to worry about, anyway. I told my parents and they gave me a week to figure things out and leave, so I dropped out of school and ended up at the strip club. It was the only way I could think of to make enough money to support me and Aaron. I told the manager I was pregnant and he just laughed and said I was perfect."

"Blaine…"

"Please don't. I did what I had to do to provide for my son, okay? I make enough to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table and have a consistent babysitter. Aaron loves Ariel and Ariel loves him too. They're really great together and I trust her enough with him to go off to a strip club six out of seven nights of the week."

"Blaine, why didn't you try harder to contact me? If I'd known…"

"What, Kurt? If you'd known, you would've forgiven me for sleeping with someone else? You would've said, 'Hey, it's okay! We'll figure it out! I'm poor and living in one of the most expensive cities in the country and you're a high school kid, but we'll figure it out! Come live with me in my loft! We'll just pretend the break up and the cheating didn't happen!'? Really?"

Kurt frowned and pulled his hand away. "No, but—"

"But nothing, Kurt. You weren't ready to talk to me. That wouldn't have changed if you'd known."

"Bullshit," Kurt said, eyes blazing. "I may not know him, but that is my kid too, Blaine. And no matter what, I still—" He choked, and Blaine realized with a start that he was crying. "I still loved you. Still _love _you. It may not have been as easy as you just made it sound but it would've been better than this."

"You still love me?" Blaine asked, feeling hope for the first time in a long time.

Kurt tilted his head to the side, studying Blaine. "Of course I do, Blaine. Of _course _I do. Do you think I would've left John the night before our wedding if I didn't?"

Blaine pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and frowned down at the table. He didn't know what to say, what to think. This wasn't going like he thought it would at all. He'd expected Kurt to stop in in a well-tailored suit and curtly tell Blaine that he'd gotten married and could Blaine kindly not speak or see him again. Instead, Kurt was turning Blaine's entire world upside down, giving him a new kind of hope Blaine hadn't felt since Aaron was born.

"Don't get me wrong, we still have _a lot _to talk about. We have three years' worth of life to cover. I'd like to meet Aaron, too. Not tonight, of course, but I'd like to meet my son. The one you've kept from me."

"It wasn't intentional," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I wasn't trying to keep you from him. I just…never got the chance to tell you."

"No, you had the chance. You were just too scared to take it. And that's partly my fault, because I wouldn't talk to you after our break up, but you have to understand that I was in a really bad place. I wasn't wrong for not talking to you."

"I know," Blaine said quickly. "I know. I screwed up."

"Yes. You did. And you did it again by keeping my kid a secret from me. But this is your chance to make things right. This is your chance to do better for yourself, for your son. I have a stable job, a steady income. You can quit and I can help you until you find something better."

Blaine scoffed. "Yeah, I'm definitely going to find something better without a high school diploma."

"So you'll get your GED, Blaine. There are ways. You can improve your life, if you want to. It's up to you. This is your choice. I made mine last night, several times, and over and over again today. What's yours going to be?"

"You expect me to decide now?"

"Unless you really want more guys staring at you and touching you again another night. Don't you have to go to work soon?"

Blaine glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "Yeah."

"So make your choice, Blaine. You can quit tonight and start over or you can keep on like you have been. Either way, I do still intend to meet Aaron. And I would still like to keep in touch with you. But I'd really like it if you took me up on this and let me help you. We don't have to be boyfriends or lovers or anything. I'm not ready for that and I know you aren't either. But I think we could use a fresh start. As friends. As parents."

Blaine bit his lip. He knew, in the end, that there really was no choice. Everything he'd done had been for Aaron. To make sure he was safe, and well-fed, and taken care of, and loved. This was Blaine's chance to do that without having to sell his body, his soul, his integrity. Kurt was offering a change that was very much welcome, but Blaine didn't know if he deserved it.

He did know Aaron deserved it, though. And he did know that Kurt deserved to know his son. It was a mistake keeping Kurt and Aaron apart. It made sense to him at the time, but everything seems simpler in hindsight and Blaine knows if he'd showed up again on Kurt's doorstep and simply said, "I'm pregnant," things would be vastly different right now.

Because even in their current situation, Kurt was dropping everything to be with his family. Even knowing where Blaine is, and what he's doing, and what he's been keeping secret, Kurt has changed his entire life—and ruined someone else's—for the sake of his child. And Blaine couldn't pretend like that didn't say something.

Then there was the simple fact that Kurt still loved him. After everything, despite everything, maybe even because of everything, Kurt still loved him. Loved him enough to leave another man the day of their wedding.

Blaine took a deep breath before nodding. "Okay."

Kurt reached a hand across the table and grabbed Blaine's, smiling. "Okay."


	62. Lost and Insecure, You Found Me

_Summary: Kurt and Blaine head to Ikea to buy some new furniture for their new apartment, and Blaine ends up getting lost and having a panic attack in one of the example rooms._

_I kind of varied off of this prompt from kurtsieforblaine from tumblr: Blaine and Kurt going to Ikea for stuff for the loft once everyone else has moved out and they get separated and Blaine can't find Kurt and he starts having a panic attack about how he can't live in Ikea! how will he get married to Kurt and he'll never see his friends or family again etc and Kurt finds him curled up in one of the example rooms crying._

_(Inspired because I went to Ikea yesterday)._

_Also, this is in the same verse as my two other future fics,____All Our Children and Like Father, Like Son. You don't need to read the other two at all for this one, but it's just fun for me to keep track of my verses. :)_

… … …

"Honey, come look at this one!"

Blaine followed Kurt's voice around a display and over to a bright blue suede couch. "Um..."

"You don't like it?"

"I'm just not sure about the color."

Kurt bounced a bit on the couch, hand splayed on the cushion next to him and feeling the fabric. "You know, I thought about that too, but if we decorate right it could work."

"What about this one?" Blaine asked, going over to a beige one not far from Kurt. He sat down and frowned. "Never mind. This isn't comfortable at all."

"Let's go over here," Kurt said, laughing as he came over and pulled Blaine up, directing him over to a different section of sofas.

"These aren't bad."

"No, not at all. I kind of like this one."

"Are you sure about the red?"

"It's better than the blue."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

They fell onto the couch side by side, thighs and shoulders touching. Blaine sank into the cushions, giving them a little bounce. Kurt scooted to the end of the couch where there was an extended seat for someone to put their legs up and relax.

Kurt nodded his approval. "I like it. It's pretty comfortable. Lots of places for us to have sex."

"Kurt!" Blaine looked around to make sure no one was listening in.

Kurt shrugged and smirked at Blaine. "Don't pretend you weren't thinking it."

"Is that a yes to this couch, babe?"

"Yeah, I like it."

"Good. Let's write it down." Blaine pulled out the map of Ikea from his back pocket and turned it over to the shopping list side, jotting down the information from the price tag. "And it's such a reasonable price too. Okay, what next?"

"Coffee tables?"

"Do we really need one?"

"Of course we do."

"I mean right away. Let's be sensible in our spending, Kurt."

Kurt rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively, standing up. "Don't worry about spending. I make enough."

"I know, but this is for _our _place. We should both be spending equally."

"Baby, we have a shared checking account. What's mine is yours and vice versa. It's all our money."

Blaine sighed. They'd had this discussion-oftentimes in argument form-too many times and he didn't want to have it again. Not when they were having such a good day. So he pushed off the couch and followed Kurt over to the coffee tables.

Blaine was stuck. That was the only way he could think of to put it. The phrase ran over and over in his mind every day. _You're stuck. You're in a rut. You're never getting anywhere. _After his first year at NYADA, Blaine decided that performing wasn't what he wanted to do after all. It was quite a shock to Kurt, but once Blaine had explained himself, they came to the conclusion that Blaine had to follow his heart.

Except Blaine didn't know where his heart was telling him to go. He knew that after the whole thing with June, he didn't want his children having to deal with the difficult people of fame just because he wanted to be a star. The more time he and Kurt spent together living in domestic bliss, the more Blaine imagined their future together, with kids and a home and maybe a dog. He knew he didn't want paparazzi or gossip bloggers or fame to be any part of that.

The only problem was that music was where Blaine's heart lived. He didn't want to leave it, but he didn't know what to do if he wasn't performing. So he was taking a year off from school until he figured things out. He'd picked up a job at a coffee shop not far from their new place, but it only paid minimum wage and he didn't get many tips.

Kurt, on the other hand, was flourishing in life. He too had chosen a different career path after his first few semesters at NYADA, but he knew exactly what he wanted to do. With a glowing recommendation letter from Isabelle Wright, Kurt had been admitted into Parsons, The New School for Design. He was in the fashion design program and was already one of the star students in his class. On top of that, he'd been promoted at , given his interest in fashion design.

While Blaine was only pulling in a few hundred every week, oftentimes lower due to taxes and cut hours, Kurt was pulling in a steady $2,000 per month, oftentimes more due to overtime and bonuses.

It was so embarrassing. Not because Kurt was doing so well, but because Blaine was doing so poorly. He'd never in his life been more lost.

"Blaine, what do you think of this one?" Kurt asked, shaking Blaine from his thoughts as he pointed to a coffee table.

Blaine came over and looked. "It's pretty nice. I don't know that it would go with the wood in our living room, though."

"Oh, you're right."

"The wood on this one would look nice," Blaine said, going over to a darker one.

Kurt came over and checked the price tag. "Honey, we're doing well, but not this well."

Blaine glanced over and frowned. "Oh. I didn't look at the price."

"That's okay," Kurt said, smiling. He kissed Blaine's cheek before hopping off to another section. "This one's nice, babe! Come check it out!"

"Oh, that is nice. You want me to write it down?"

"Do we both like it?"

"I think so."

"Write it down!"

Blaine pulled the map out again and wrote the information on the back. "Done. Where to next?"

"Hmm. Let's go find the bedroom stuff. I wanna test out beds with you," Kurt said, nudging Blaine and smirking.

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. "You know we can't _actually _have sex on the beds in here, right?"

"Of course not, silly. I want to test how the mattress feels. Get your mind out of the gutter, perv."

"Oh, yeah, _I'm _the perv."

"Damn right."

They held hands as they walked through the maze of Ikea. Even despite how crappy things had been for Blaine lately, he had to admit that his relationship with Kurt was better than ever. They were moving out of the loft and into a new apartment, with an extra bedroom for a study (and eventually a nursery?) and a very nicely sized master bedroom. There was even an island in the kitchen, which Kurt loved, and lots of windows in the living room, which Blaine loved. It was perfect for them and a perfect way for them to move their relationship forward.

When Kurt had proposed throwing out all their old furniture and picking out new stuff together, Blaine was skeptical, but Kurt insisted. And then he said, "You know, the next big investment we do will be our wedding. After we get settled in, we should start planning. Seriously this time." Blaine couldn't help but tackle Kurt against the couch and kiss him for an hour. He was just so _excited _about his life with Kurt.

"We're passing the workspace and kitchen and dining room stuff, babe," Blaine said.

Kurt shrugged. "That's okay, we'll just turn around and come back."

"But if we're already here-"

"Oooh! I love that one!" Kurt broke away and ran towards a bed by the back wall. He fell onto it and sighed happily. "Oh, baby, this one's nice. You have to come lay with me."

Blaine laughed and headed over, laying next to Kurt. "It's a little small, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's a double, but we can order it in king."

"Do we really need a king? I was thinking queen."

Kurt rolled his head to the side and gave Blaine a look. "Trust me. We're gonna need a king."

"Alright," Blaine laughed. "I still want to try some other ones, though. Let's not settle on the first bed we see."

"But this one's so nice," Kurt said, pouting.

Blaine leaned down and kissed Kurt's pout away. "And we can come back to it if we don't like any others."

"You're right. As always."

"Well, I wouldn't say always, but I'll take the compliment."

"Good."

Blaine wandered off to a bed with a lighter wood but a more intricate headboard that practically screamed Kurt, so he called over his shoulder, "Hey, Kurt, come look at this one!" He plopped onto the mattress and frowned. "Well, ignore the mattress. But I think the frame might be a winner!" He paused, waiting for Kurt to respond or come over and join him, but no one answered. He sat up and looked around. "Kurt?"

Kurt was nowhere to be seen. Blaine stood from the bed and walked around the section, calling Kurt's name out again and again. Except Kurt had disappeared completely. So Blaine went to pull out his map to check where Kurt was, but his map was gone. Without it, Blaine had no idea where he was or how to get anywhere. The place was a total maze and Blaine had been trusting Kurt and the map to lead him where he needed to go, but now he had neither.

Thinking Kurt went back to one of the previous sections, maybe changing his mind about skipping them, Blaine headed through the hallways and towards the kitchen area. Except then he got lost in the kitchens, because there were mirrors where he thought there were hallways and he'd ran into his own reflection more times that he'd found an actual hallway. The sample rooms were so elaborate that Blaine almost couldn't figure out how to get out.

And he still couldn't find Kurt, so he needed to get out of the kitchens and go back to the bedrooms. He ran into a few pieces of furniture on the way, but finally made it back to the beds. He looked around and decided to call out again. "Kurt? Are you here?" He got no reply.

He headed forward, seeing as Kurt wasn't backward, and found kids room stuff. Maybe Kurt was feeling particularly family-oriented and had gone to plan their future nursery. But Kurt wasn't in that section, either, and it was proving to be the most elaborate one there. Not only were their cribs, but there were bunk beds and sample kids rooms, complete with hidden bathrooms tucked away in corners.

It was in one of those sample room bathrooms that Blaine gave up. He felt so _stupid _for getting lost in _Ikea_ and _crying about it, _but he couldn't help it. He sat down in front of the sample shower and dropped his forehead onto his knees, wrapping his arms around them and crying. His breath hitched with every sob and it was getting difficult to breathe.

"Mommy, why is that man crying?"

Blaine looked up to see a little boy pointing at him. His mother quickly grabbed him and carried him away. "Baby, we don't talk to strangers, remember? Leave that man alone..."

God, Blaine was pathetic. He was sitting on the floor of a kids' fake bathroom in Ikea _crying _because he was lost. It's not even that hard, and he had a map, but of course he lost it. He was a mess and his life was a mess and the only good thing was Kurt but Kurt was gone and Blaine couldn't figure out his life without him.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he almost slapped himself for not thinking of calling Kurt. Good thing Kurt thought of it. "Hello?"

_"Baby, where'd you- What's wrong?"_

"I'm lost, Kurt."

_"Oh, Blaine, it's okay. I'll come find you. Where are you?"_

"I don't know! I'm so lost! I'm in some bathroom in the kids section and this kid came in and pointed at me and asked why I was crying and I just feel so _stupid._"

_"No, don't feel stupid, hon. This is only your second time at Ikea. It's easy to get lost. I'm almost to you, okay? Do you remember what the bedroom part looked like?"_

"I don't know. It was green and yellow. It had a fuzzy polka dot carpet by the bed-oh, bunk-beds. They're bunk-beds."

_"Okay, I think I've found you," _Kurt said, and then he was standing in front of Blaine, hanging up his phone. "Oh, honey." He dropped down to the floor in front of Blaine and smiled sympathetically.

"I'm so stupid," Blaine spat, wiping his face even as he kept crying.

Kurt shook his head. "No you're not. You got lost, Blaine. It happens a lot here."

"It's not just this, Kurt. I'm not just lost here; I'm lost everywhere."

"What do you mean?"

"I have no idea what I'm doing. You've got your whole life figured out, and I'm really happy for you, Kurt, you're great. But I'm not. I'm working a minimum wage and I'm not even in school and you're pulling all the weight. Sure we have a joint checking account but we both know that I contribute half of what you do."

"What's so wrong about that?"

"Because I'm a failure, Kurt! I'm not doing anything with my life! I'm so freaking _lost! _And you, you have everything together, and I love that but I can't help feeling inferior around you."

"It's not a contest. You know that."

"I know, I know, but-"

"No buts, Blaine. Listen to me. You are wonderful and you are going to find what's right for you in life. But you're only twenty years old. You don't have to have it all figured out right now. If what you need is to take a year off and work at a coffee shop, then that's fine. A marriage is about balance, Blaine. Not just about being equal, but about us evening each other out. For right now, I'm making more money and that's okay. I'm sure there will be a time soon when I'll need you to carry us and you'll have the better job and I'll be the lower income. And that's okay. Honey, we're meant to help each other out. We're in this together, for richer or poorer. I don't care what career path you choose or how long it takes you to figure it out, as long as you're happy."

"But I'm not happy," Blaine said, wiping at his eyes again. "I'm happy with you, but I'm not happy with where I am in terms of career."

"So why don't you quit your job and find something else?"

"I can't quit my job, Kurt. I know it's not as substantial as yours, but I do bring in some money. We can't afford to lose it."

"Hon, you have to work with me here. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know!" Blaine took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I just-that's the problem. I don't know what I want to do."

"What do you like? What makes you happy?"

"Music. I don't miss NYADA, I'm glad I left, but I do miss music."

"So let's find something for you with music."

"But I don't want to be a performer and I don't want to teach."

"There are other options, Blaine." Kurt stood up and offered a hand. "We'll find you something. I promise. I don't like seeing you this unhappy."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and stood up, falling into Kurt's arms. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's okay to be scared right now. We'll figure everything out together, okay?"

"Okay." Blaine nodded against Kurt's shoulder and tried to collect himself. His breathing had slowed to a regular pace and he wasn't crying anymore, but he was sure he still looked like a mess.

Kurt pulled away and smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Do you feel better now?"

"A little."

"Do you want to keep looking at furniture or pack it up for the day and go home?"

"No, we can keep looking. We have to or we won't have any furniture."

"Okay. Let's go back to the storage area. We're gonna need a bookshelf."

"Is that where you were?"

Kurt nodded and threaded his fingers through Blaine's tugging him out of the sample kids room. "Yeah, I told you I changed my mind and you were right and I wanted to go back and follow the rooms instead of skipping ahead to the beds. I guess you didn't hear me."

"I didn't."

"I took this shortcut," Kurt said, walking through a random archway Blaine didn't remember being there before.

Blaine looked around. "Oh."

"It's okay," Kurt laughed. "You'll get a hang of the layout in no time."

"Who designs a store like this?"

"It's actually really genius. This is the most efficient use of square footage I've ever seen."

"Yeah, sure," Blaine muttered.

Kurt laughed again and headed over to a bookcase, looking over the shelves. He turned around and said, "What were you doing in the kids section anyway?"

Blaine shrugged. "I couldn't find you. I thought you might have gone to look at cribs and baby stuff. You know, for the future."

Kurt smiled and pulled Blaine in, hands grabbing at Blaine's hips. "For the future. Right."

"Yeah. I mean, we're gonna have kids someday, right?"

"Of course. So I just thought you were..."

"Planning ahead?"

"Yeah. Planning ahead."

Kurt giggled and kissed Blaine's nose. "You're so sweet."

"It was a normal assumption!"

"It was. It was sweet." Kurt leaned forward and kissed Blaine on the mouth, smiling into it.

Blaine knocked his forehead against Kurt's. "Yeah, well, you're sweeter."

"We're both sweet. That's why we're so good together."

"Among many other reasons."

"Exactly. Now what do you think of this bookcase?"

"It's a little pricey, don't you think? Let's check this one out." Blaine headed over to one a few over, a little smaller and a lot cheaper. "What do you think of this one?"

Kurt smiled. "I think it's perfect."


	63. Love is a Choice, and I Choose You

_Summary: Blaine and Kurt get into a fight and aren't speaking in school so all the New Directions start picking on Blaine and telling him he's not welcome, pushes him around, until one day it goes too far and Blaine actually gets hurt and Kurt finds out and yells at ND._

… … …

It was the third time that week they'd had this fight. Over and over again, the same arguments and they never got anywhere. Because Blaine was allowed to have his own friends and Kurt couldn't stop him, but Kurt didn't like Blaine being friends with someone so blatantly trying to break them up.

"It is disrespectful to me and to this relationship for you to continue a friendship with someone who obviously hates me and is trying to break us up."

"I understand that, but _you _have to understand that you can't dictate who I'm friends with. He doesn't act the same way around you that he does when he and I are alone."

"You're _alone _with him? When?"

"We...hang out at his house sometimes..."

"...At his house. Alone. Were you intentionally keeping this from me or did you just conveniently forget to tell me you've been hanging out with Sebastian Smythe _alone _in his house?"

"Why are you making it sound like I'm cheating on you?"

"Well are you?"

"No!" Blaine laid down on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kurt, this is crazy. I wouldn't cheat on you with Sebastian. He and I are just friends."

"Sure. Just like Quinn and Rachel are just friends."

"They are! Rachel's dating Finn."

"Yeah, unfortunately for Quinn."

"Quinn's straight."

"Please! Have you seen her lately? Talk about a closet case!"

Blaine sat up and glared at Kurt. "I think you and I have enough to deal with right now without adding fighting about closeted lesbians."

"Well, we're already fighting about everything else, why not add more?" Kurt asked, placing his hands on his hips as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"Because this is about us, not Quinn and Rachel."

"I'm just saying..."

"Kurt, focus!"

"Don't use that tone at me!" Blaine's phone pinged, so he pulled it out to see who'd texted him. "It's Sebastian, isn't it?"

Blaine shook his head and put his phone in his pocket. "It doesn't matter. We're talking right now. He can wait."

"Wow, you're actually putting me first? I'm shocked."

"That is so unnecessary. I _always _put you first, Kurt, and you know it."

"If you did put me first, you wouldn't be friends with Sebastian."

"He's harmless! It's all an act!"

"Well somebody get him a fucking Academy Award!"

"Okay, again, unnecessary."

"This whole fight is unnecessary, Blaine," Kurt said, crossing his arms. "If you would just respect me and stop talking to him, this whole thing would be over."

"Do you not trust me? Is that what this is about?"

"Of course I trust you, Blaine. It's Sebastian I don't trust."

"If you trusted me, you wouldn't be worried about it. You'd know that no matter what Sebastian says or does, nothing is going to happen. Because I love you and I'm loyal to you and I'm not going to let anything happen."

Kurt sighed and sat on the edge of the bed next to Blaine, dropping his arms and staring down at his lap. "I don't want to keep fighting with you. I hate this. But I can't just ignore that you aren't taking my feelings and my opinion into account. It makes me feel like you don't care about me or what I think."

"Of _course _I care, Kurt," Blaine said, turning his body and placing a hand over one of Kurt's. "But you have to give me some room here. You have to trust that I'm not going to let anything happen. I do care about you and what you think, but I feel like you don't trust me, and trust is the base of a relationship."

"So we're at an impasse, then."

"It appears we are."

Kurt nodded and stood up. "I'll show myself out, then."

"Wait, Kurt..."

"It's okay, Blaine. I think we just both need time to think about this so we can come to some sort of compromise. Because we can't keep fighting about this. Not anymore. I'm tired of it. Aren't you?"

Blaine sighed. "Yeah. I am."

Kurt gave him a half-smile and waved at the door. "I'll see you at school."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

And then Kurt left. Blaine wanted to call out, wanted to say he'd give up Sebastian if it meant they wouldn't fight anymore, wanted to ask Kurt to come back so they could make out and watch a movie, but he didn't. He didn't do any of that. He sat on the bed, quiet and stubborn, then pulled out his phone to respond to Sebastian's text message.

... ... ...

"So he just left?"

"Yep."

"And you guys didn't come to any sort of resolution?"

"Nope."

"And now you're here."

"Yep."

"Was that really a smart idea?"

"Nope."

"Okay."

Blaine collapsed against the back of Sebastian's couch and rolled his head over to look at Sebastian, raising an eyebrow. "What? No comment about how me and Kurt breaking up is inevitable? No shameless flirting? No teasing? Nothing?"

Sebastian shrugged, throwing an arm against the back of the sofa and lifting a leg up, bending it at the knee. He and Blaine were at opposite ends of the couch, too far apart for touching. "You seem really upset, Killer. Do I wanna flirt with you? Yeah. There are about a million sexual innuendos I could say right now, and trust me, I've thought them all out. But you know and I know that I like you. It's on the table already. I didn't think it needed to be said."

"Sebastian..."

"See? Now you're mad. That's why I didn't say it."

"It's not that, it's just... I'm frustrated."

"You know, if you were with me, you could be friends with anyone you want."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Right. So I could be friends with Kurt?"

"Oh, _fuck _no."

"Exactly."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," Blaine said, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "Kurt's really mad about this. I may not be able to come over here anymore. Or, you know, talk to you ever."

"Oh, come on. That's so lame! Kurt's being kind of a bitch about this."

"Don't call him that. He's not a bitch. He just doesn't trust you. And can you blame him?"

"Well, no, but he's supposed to trust you."

"And he does. You know what? It was a bad idea for me to even come here. I should go," Blaine said, standing up and heading for the front door.

"No, Blaine, come on! I'm sorry!" Sebastian called after him, following him.

Blaine shook his head. "You can be a good person, Sebastian, but you can also be really mean and annoying. You can't keep acting like this or you're going to alienate yourself from everyone and you're gonna end up alone." He turned and grabbed the door handle, opening the door, but just before he stepped out, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Unless that's what you want. In which case, I feel _really _sorry for you."

With that, he shut the door, headed to his car, and drove home.

... ... ...

The night dragged on without being able to text or call Kurt. He could have, he supposed, but Kurt made it fairly clear that until they thought of a compromise, they weren't really supposed to be talking. So he turned his phone off when he got home from Sebastian's house and set it on his bedside table. He went through the skincare routine he usually did over the phone with Kurt, but it just wasn't the same. Blaine's whole night ended up being so boring and empty that he went to sleep two hours early.

The following morning was even worse. He usually woke up to a good morning text from Kurt or sent his own for Kurt to wake up to, and then he'd shower and get dressed in anticipation of meeting Kurt at the Lima Bean to get their coffees together and carpool to school. One of them would leave their cars at the Lima Bean parking lot, but it didn't matter because they always went there together after school anyway.

Except that morning, there was no good morning text, and Blaine didn't send one. He took longer than usual to shower and put on clothes because he knew he had nothing to look forward to. They didn't say it, but he knew they wouldn't be meeting that morning. Instead, Blaine went through a drive-thru at Starbucks. He felt dirty but he needed his morning coffee. Especially if he and Kurt wouldn't be talking that day.

When he got to his locker, he'd just started putting his books away when his half-full coffee cup was knocked out of his hands, splashing onto the floor.

"Hey!" He frowned, looking down at where the liquid splattered onto his red pants. "What's your problem?"

"I heard you cheated on my little brother."

Blaine looked up at Finn. "What? No I didn't."

"Why won't you stop talking to Sebastian, dude? It kinda feels like betrayal."

"It's not. He's my friend."

"You know, if you wanna be friends with the Warblers, that's fine, but maybe you should just go back to Dalton, man."

Finn shook his head and walked away, leaving Blaine baffled.

So Kurt talked to Finn about their fight. Blaine couldn't really be mad, considering he went over to Sebastian's house and talked to him about it. That was even worse, actually. But at least Blaine hadn't made Kurt out to be the bad guy. What had Kurt told Finn that would make him want to knock his coffee on the ground and tell him to leave?

It was a crappy start to a crappy day, and by second period Blaine just wanted to go home.

Every time Blaine ran into one of the glee kids in the hallway, they either ignored him or shoved him. He almost felt like he was back at Westerville High, except these people were supposed to be his friends and the kids in Westerville were nothing to him.

He couldn't pretend it didn't sting a little. He'd been hoping to catch Kurt at some point and talk about it, but Kurt knew his schedule and was clearly avoiding him. In their one shared class, Kurt sat across the room from him, and at lunch Kurt sat with a group of Cheerios.

It wasn't that Kurt was being unfair. He was being very fair, actually. They were just taking a few days to think about things, and that was fine. It was logical, actually. Very mature of them.

Blaine just missed his boyfriend.

Which was why he was looking forward to glee club at the end of the day, so he could at least sing with Kurt. But when he walked in, all the glee kids frowned at him.

"How dare you?" Rachel demanded.

Blaine frowned. "What?"

"We know what you did," Tina said.

"I didn't do anything."

"You're cuddling up to the enemy, asshole," Santana said.

Puck shook his head. "Not cool, man."

"You guys don't even know the full story," Blaine said, heading toward the risers to sit down.

Every glee kid set their bag in the seat next to them, leaving Blaine nowhere to sit. "Oh come on."

"You come on," Quinn said. "Kurt is family. You didn't think you could hurt him and think you'd be welcome here, did you?"

Okay, now that _really _stung. He'd thought he was part of the family too, and he said as much, but Artie was quick to say, "Yeah, as of a few months ago. What do we really know about this guy anyway?"

"Nothing!" Rachel shouted. "His name's probably not even Blaine Anderson!"

"It's not. It's Blaine Warbler," Brittany said.

"See? He's an imposter!" Puck yelled.

Kurt walked in then, and everyone stopped talking. He gave them a bitch glare. "What?"

"Nothing," Rachel said, smiling. She patted the empty chair next to her. "Come sit by me!"

Kurt's eyes flickered over to Blaine before looking Rachel over. "Sure."

He stepped around Blaine and fell into the seat.

Blaine shifted his weight uncertainly for a second before turning around and leaving.

"Where are you going?" Kurt asked.

Blaine glanced over his shoulder and said, "I, uh, I just remembered I have a dentist appointment that-that I'm late for. So I'm just gonna-I'm gonna go. I'm gonna have to skip practice today. Sorry, guys."

"Good riddance. Maybe he'll go back to Dalton with the Garglers where he belongs," Puck muttered.

Blaine stilled by the door, hand on the frame. He stayed just long enough to hear Kurt snap, "Noah, lay off. Leave him alone." It was nice to hear Kurt defending him, but given the reception he'd gotten when he walked into the room, it didn't help much.

When he got in his car, he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and cried. God, he didn't even know _why _he was crying. Maybe it was because Kurt wasn't talking to him, or maybe it was because the New Directions were and they were saying mean things, or maybe it was because he didn't get his full morning coffee. He knew he was being oversensitive, but he didn't care. Because his boyfriend was mad at him and his friends hated him and the root of it all was being a total dick.

He thought about texting Sebastian, but then realized he'd left his phone off and in his room. It didn't matter anyway. He and Sebastian were fighting too.

Blaine didn't have anyone.

... ... ...

The next day, Thursday, Blaine's gym clothes were stolen and he was forced to use some from the lost and found. The shirt was too small and the shorts were too big. He suspected Puck as the culprit, but couldn't prove it. Then Tina stuck her foot out and tripped him on his way to the board in math class, and Finn locker-checked him in the hallway, and at glee everyone put their bags in the seats next to them again. But Blaine couldn't skip practice two days in a row, so he dragged a band chair to the top right corner of the room and sat a good five feet away from everyone else.

Mr. Schue didn't even notice.

Although Kurt did give him a weird look, as if asking what was going on, and that was comforting again. At least he knew Kurt still cared even though they weren't speaking for the time being.

Friday was the worst yet. It was only the third day, but someone had slushied everything in his locker. He didn't know how, but they'd someone gotten into his locker and poured a slushie over everything. It was better than getting a slushie in the face, he supposed, but now all of his textbooks were ruined and his parents would have to pay hundreds of dollars to the school at the end of the year.

The worst part of it all was that these people were supposed to be his friends. He knew he was the new kid, but he knew them all before he transferred. He was friends of them because of Kurt, sure, but he thought since he transferred that he'd been making friendships with them independently. It turned out he was wrong. People only liked him when he was associated with Kurt, and what did that say about Blaine?

On Wednesday, when he and Kurt initially stopped talking, he'd thought that the weekend was going to suck. He was dreading it, actually, because he knew he wouldn't be able to talk to or see Kurt. But after the past few days, he was glad to have a couple days of peace. He'd be alone, with no one to trip him or shove him into a locker or a wall or toss him in a dumpster.

Yeah, that was the best part of Friday, the cherry on the top of a perfect day. On his way to the parking lot, Puck had swept him up and tossed him into a dumpster, not even bothering to look back.

Blaine didn't even know the New Directions could be so mean or vindictive, but he should've guessed, really. They loved each other so much that they were fiercely protective. When someone hurt one of them, the rest of them pounced. Blaine just wished he was included in one of the protected, not the persecuted.

His weekend passed quickly with almost no incidence. Almost. One of the glee kids called him from an unknown number and said, "Go back to where you came from," but other than that it was quiet.

He called Cooper on Saturday afternoon, but the conversation was short. Cooper was on the set of a new commercial and didn't have time to talk.

Then Blaine decided to just bite the bullet and text Sebastian. All he said was _Hey _but Sebastian never texted back. He read it, though. That Blaine could see. So he knew Sebastian was ignoring him too.

"Honey, did you not spend time with Kurt today?" his mom asked at the dinner table.

Blaine shrugged. "No."

"Will he be over tomorrow?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"Did you two have a fight?" his dad asked.

Blaine stared down at his plate. "Yeah."

"Are you broken up?"

"No, though I'm sure you'd love that," Blaine muttered.

"Excuse me?" his dad said, setting down his fork.

His mom reached over and grabbed Blaine's hand. "Honey, that's not fair. You know your father has tried to be very supportive of your relationship with Kurt."

"Yeah, okay."

"Blaine," his dad warned.

Blaine shook his head and stood up. "I'm sorry, I just-I'm not in a good mood. I'm just gonna go to sleep."

"Blaine-"

"It's okay, Mom. I'm fine. I'm just gonna go to sleep."

He headed up the stairs, took a shower to rinse out his hair gel, and went to sleep.

Sunday passed equally as uneventfully. He got all of his homework done for once, so at least he was being productive. Kurt texted him that night, which was nice.

_You okay?_

Blaine thought for a moment before sending his reply.

_Yeah. You?_

_Yeah. I miss you._

_I miss you too. _

_Talk soon?_

_Please._

_I love you._

_I love you too._

That made Blaine feel a bit better, and the next morning as he got ready for school, his spirits were a little lifted. He considered going to the Lima Bean but didn't want the disappointment if Kurt didn't show up to ruin his mood, so he grabbed another Starbucks and drove to school.

At his locker, instead of having the coffee knocked to the ground, someone hit the bottom of the cup and spilled it all down Blaine's shirt. He gasped and took a step back, staring down at his shirt. He looked up but whoever had done it had already walked away.

"God damn it!"

He grabbed some tissues from his locker and started dabbing his shirt, trying to get some of the coffee out, when a hand on the back of his head shoved his forehead forward, banging it against the edge of his locker.

"Leave, loser," Santana said.

His eyes rolled up, the world tilted on its side, everything went fuzzy, and then he fainted.

... ... ...

He woke up in the nurse's office, frowning and groaning in pain. "God, my head hurts."

"Here."

Blaine blinked his eyes open and saw Kurt sitting next to him, offering him a small paper cup. Blaine grabbed it, looking in it and finding a couple of pills.

"It's ibuprofen," Kurt explained. "For your head."

"Thanks." Blaine sat up and knocked the pills back, then took the plastic cup of water Kurt was holding out to him and drank it. "Thank you."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, rubbing his knee.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry, honey."

Blaine shrugged. "It's fine."

"It's not. I thought the bullying stopped when Karofsky left, but I guess the jocks have found a new ring-leader."

"The jocks?" Blaine asked.

Kurt frowned. "Well, yeah. Isn't that who did this to you?"

"No. It was Santana."

"Santana?"

"Yeah. At least, I'm pretty sure it was. I heard her voice right after, before I blacked out. But I think she was working with one of the other glee kids, whoever knocked my coffee onto my shirt."

"Blaine, what are you talking about?"

Blaine shifted and looked away. "The New Directions have kind of been...not nice to me lately."

"What do you mean? What have they been doing?"

"It's not important. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Blaine, talk to me. What have they been doing?"

"It's not a big deal. Just trips, insults, sometimes shoving... It's nothing, really."

"It's nothing? Sweetheart, look at your head," Kurt said, grabbing a mirror from the side table and holding it out to him.

Blaine took the mirror and looked at his head, gasping when he saw it. His forehead had a giant goose egg on it, complete with a deep cut down the middle that had been closed with butterfly bandages. "Oh, my god."

"Blaine, this is really serious. Why didn't you tell me they were doing this?"

"I don't know. We weren't talking. You're mad at me."

"That doesn't matter when it comes to something like this." Kurt frowned and shook his head, muttering to himself. "I can't believe they've been doing this. I knew they were stupid, but I didn't think they were this stupid."

"Kurt, really, it's okay. They're your friends, I don't want to-"

"They're supposed to be yours too. No, this isn't okay. Not at all." Kurt stood up and started walking away.

"Wait, Kurt, where are you going?"

Kurt turned around. "I have to get back to class, but you should rest more here. I'll see you later, okay?"

"O-okay."

Kurt smiled and came back, giving Blaine a kiss on the cheek. "I love you. We'll talk after school today. Lima Bean?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"I love you too. And Kurt, I'm sorry about-"

"Shh. Save it for later, okay? We'll talk later. We'll work everything out."

Blaine nodded. "Okay."

After Kurt left, Blaine stayed in the nurse's office for the next few class periods. He didn't particularly want to go to class, especially with his head looking the way it did, but he couldn't stay in the nurse's office all day either. He decided to just go to history and science, his last two classes of the day. He was lagging because his head still hurt, so by the time he got to glee, he heard Kurt yelling from halfway down the hall.

"...and you guys thought it was okay to do this?"

"We were just defending your honor, Kurt!" Blaine heard Rachel say.

He got to the door and hovered outside.

"Are you insane? He's been in the nurse's office all day because Santana bashed his head into a locker! He has a cut taking up half of his forehead and a giant goose egg! And it's because of _you_!"

Blaine was glad he didn't mention the bruises on his torso to Kurt from being slammed into lockers and that one time on Friday that Puck threw him in the dumpster. He'd hit his rib cage on the side on the way in and there was a giant purple and yellow bruise there.

"He's an asshole! And a traitor!" Puck yelled.

"No, _you guys _are the assholes and the traitors. How dare you? He's a member of this club, of this team, of this _family. _And you guys treated him like the jocks treated us for years. You're all a bunch of hypocrites."

Blaine opened the door and stepped in, and he almost turned right back around when everyone stared at him. Some of them gawked, looking guilty as they stared at Blaine's head, but Santana and a few others just looked smug.

"Kurt, it's okay, you don't have to-"

"No, I do have to, because these people who were supposed to be your friends have been bullying you and it's not okay with me."

"I know, but it's okay-"

"Stop saying that! It's not! They've been treating you like Karofsky treated me. They are acting like the very reason that I left in the first place." Kurt paused, frowning deeper before his face changed and he turned to the New Directions. "Oh my god, that's what you guys were trying to do, wasn't it? You were trying to push him out of here."

"Kurt-"

"No, you know what? Save it, Rachel. All of you can go to hell," Kurt spat. He turned around and took Blaine's hand by the door, leading them out. "Come on. We're leaving."

"But what about practice?"

"We're skipping today. They're just gonna shove us in the back anyway."

Blaine didn't want to cause any more trouble, so he followed Kurt quietly to the parking lot and to Kurt's car.

"We'll come back for your car later," Kurt said.

Blaine didn't respond, but opened the passenger door and climbed in. Kurt fell in and gripped the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. Blaine reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Kurt's forearm.

"Kurt..."

Kurt took a deep breath, staring straight ahead. "I'm sorry. I just-I can't believe they'd do that. I can't _believe _they'd do this to you."

"I can," Blaine said, shrugging. "They haven't really liked me since I transferred. I mean, I thought I'd been making progress, but I guess I was wrong."

"No. They're all assholes and I just-I don't even know if I want to be a part of them anymore."

Blaine frowned. "Kurt, you can't quit glee club."

Kurt finally turned and looked at Blaine. "They were bullying you the same way Karofsky did to me, and half of them started a fight with Karofsky over it. Then they did the same to you? No. Unacceptable."

"But they're your friends..."

"And you're my boyfriend. And I'll choose you over anyone else, every time."

And suddenly, their fight made sense. Everything Kurt was upset about with the Sebastian situation made sense. Because Kurt's loyalties were to Blaine, no matter what. Their relationship was his top priority. If it came between picking a friend and picking a Blaine, Kurt would pick Blaine. And for Blaine to continue his friendship with Sebastian was essentially, to Kurt, picking Sebastian over him.

"I won't talk to Sebastian anymore."

"What?"

"I get it now. I'm sorry. It shouldn't have even been an argument in the first place. I should have chosen you from the beginning and I'm sorry. Consider Sebastian out of our lives."

Kurt sighed. "That's not what I meant, Blaine. I didn't mean-"

"I know. But this is my choice."

Kurt smiled and let go of the steering wheel, snaking a hand behind Blaine's neck to bring him in for a gentle kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Let's go get some ice on that forehead. If the swelling hasn't gone down by later tonight I want to take you to the hospital."

"Kurt, I really don't think that's necessary-"

"Hush and let me take care of you," Kurt said. He leaned in and kissed Blaine again before pulling back and starting the car.

Blaine watched him drive, staring at him with a fond smile on his face. Yeah, he loved his boyfriend, and he'd choose Kurt over anybody. Every time.


	64. Unconditionally

_Summary: Fill for the Blangst Prompt of the Day #797, "While freaking out about her show, Rachel accidentally hurts Blaine (physically and/or emotionally) while he's just trying to calm her down. Kurt comes home to find him crying and Rachel trying to calm him down."_

… … …

It was only ten minutes. Kurt had only been gone ten minutes. He ran downstairs to the corner store on their block to pick up more of the special organic tea Rachel liked to try and calm her nerves about opening night. He tried to be as quick as possible, because he knew Rachel was a bundle of nerves right now and he knew how she could be when she was like that.

But when Kurt returned to the loft, it wasn't Rachel curled up on the floor in the middle of the room crying and shaking; it was Blaine.

"Oh my god, what happened?" Kurt demanded, throwing the bag in Rachel's general direction and dropping to his knees in front of Blaine. He recognized the signs of Blaine's breakdown immediately. "Blaine, honey, what's wrong? What happened?" Blaine only cried harder, so Kurt looked up to Rachel and raised his eyebrows. "What the hell happened?"

Rachel stood by, wide eyes and a hand covering her mouth. She even looked on the verge of tears. "I-I'm so sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean-I'm _so _sorry."

"You did something?"

"Yes, but I didn't-"

"What the hell did you _do?"_

"It was an accident!"

"Rachel, stop giving me excuses and _tell me!" _Blaine started rocking back and forth, still sobbing. Kurt rubbed his hands up and down Blaine's biceps to try and soothe him, but it didn't seem to be doing anything. Kurt looked back up at Rachel. "Well?"

She fidgeted, crying as she finally said, "I-I hit him. But it was a total accident, Kurt, I swear! I didn't mean to! I don't know how it happened! I'm just so stressed about my show opening and the reviews when the show hasn't even _opened yet_ and I didn't mean to and I don't know what happened all I know is that one second Blaine was trying to talk to me and the next he was crying on the ground!"

"You _hit him_?! Rachel, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I don't know!"

Kurt turned his attention on Blaine, trying to beckon Blaine to look up. "Honey, look at me. Talk to me. It's okay, she's not going to hurt you again. No one is going to hurt you again. You're with me; you're with Kurt. You're safe. Will you look at me? Please?"

Blaine had started to quiet down some since Kurt came in, but it wasn't by much. He shook his head. Kurt could feel Blaine quivering, could see the way Blaine's hands shook around his legs.

"Baby, I need to see where she hit you so I can see how bad it is. Will you please look at me?"

"I-I don't think it's bad," Rachel offered, still standing close by. "It was just-I'm not very strong or anything-I just-"

"Rachel, you're not helping!" Kurt snapped, glaring up at her. "Can you just go sulk in your room or something? You are the last person I want to see right now and you're making Blaine feel unsafe."

"No, but-Blaine, of course you're safe around me, you know that, right?"

"_Go, _Rachel!"

"I'm sorry!"

Kurt threw a hand out and pointed to Rachel's room, so she turned around and headed over there, closing the curtain behind her. Once she was out of the room, Kurt pet Blaine's hair, cooing softly. "She's gone now. You're okay. No one's going to hurt you. Will you look up at me?"

It took a full two minutes, but finally Blaine lifted his head, peeking up at Kurt. His breath hitched on every inhale and exhale, and when he spoke, he had to take breaks every few words. "She-she didn't mean it...right? It was...an accident? Because she...said that I'm...that I'm useless. She said...I'm not good... Did she mean it?"

"No, baby, no she didn't. Of course she didn't. None of that's true. You're very good and you're not useless. You're a wonderful person and nothing she said was true, okay? She's just upset and overwhelmed and that's not an excuse but that's the reason, okay? Can you look fully up at me? Where did she hit you?"

"It...it was like...like the dance. They told me...that I was dumb and...and I should rot in hell... And they hit me. They...hated me. Does Rachel...hate me?"

"No, honey. She doesn't."

Blaine slowly lifted his head up and Kurt gasped when he saw the side of Blaine's face. It was bright red and the area just below his cheekbone and more towards his ear was especially red, starting to swell and bruise. Kurt even saw a little blood where the skin had been broken. He lifted a hand and lightly touched the tips of his index and middle finger to the area. Blaine flinched and hissed.

"That hurts," Blaine said, having calmed down more.

Kurt pulled his hand away and frowned. "I'm sorry. Here, let me get some ice."

"Is it that...bad?"

"...No."

"You...paused."

"You're gonna be fine, honey. I just want to make sure it heals quickly."

"C-Can I...see?"

Kurt sighed and helped Blaine up, wiping the last of the tears from his face and tugging him over to the bathroom. He sat Blaine down on top of the closed toilet lid and then went back into the kitchen, wetting a dish cloth and putting a few cubes of ice in it. He brought it back and held it while he stood in front of the sink. "Come here."

Blaine stood up and came over, looking at his face in the mirror. He bit his lip and started crying again.

"No, hey, don't cry again," Kurt said, guiding Blaine back over to the toilet. He brought the ice up to Blaine's face and laid it against Blaine's cheek gently. Blaine hissed but didn't flinch this time. "It's okay, Blaine, you're okay."

"What did I do wrong?" Blaine asked, looking up at Kurt with fresh tears in his eyes. "I must've...I mean, I must've done something wrong, right? I haven't...I haven't been hit since...since the dance. So then...it's me, right? It's something I did?"

"No, Blaine, you didn't do anything, okay? You didn't do anything wrong. Can you tell me about what happened?"

"I just...I was just trying to help. I told her...that she's a star, and it's okay, and it doesn't...matter what other people say...because we love her, and we...think she's great." Blaine started crying hard again, and then he got the hiccups and his breathing was even more erratic.

Kurt dropped the ice on the ground, rubbing Blaine's back as he knelt beside him on the floor, placing his free hand on Blaine's knee. "Honey, you have to breathe, okay? You're going to pass out if you don't breathe."

"I-I c-can't," Blaine panted, looking at Kurt with wide eyes. "Am I...broken?"

"Blaine, no, you're okay. You're gonna be okay, alright? You just need to breathe for me and tell me what happened. I just want to help, okay? I just want to help."

Blaine nodded, chest heaving as he breathed. Kurt rubbed his back and maintained eye contact, making a point of taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to try and get Blaine on the same rhythm. After about five minutes, Blaine was breathing semi-regularly, and Kurt nodded.

"Good. You're doing really good, sweetheart."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are. You're doing really, really well."

"Okay. Okay."

"Are you ready to tell me what happened? Do you feel okay?"

Blaine bit his lip before crawling down onto the floor and into Kurt's lap, curling up and resting his forehead against Kurt's neck, feeling his pulse against his head. "I was talking to Rachel, and trying to calm her down. I'd gone to the bathroom and when I came back she was reading some magazine article about the show and on the verge of tears. So I tried to comfort her, but everything I say just seemed to be wrong. I don't know, I guess the article was just really bad, and I wasn't helping, and then she just started screaming and I came over and tried to put my hand on her shoulder and she just swung."

"Do you remember anything else? Anything specific that you said that might have made her lash out?"

"Not really. It all happened kinda fast."

"And how did you end up on the floor?"

Blaine pulled away, looking down at the floor. "It's really embarrassing."

"Honey, you know you don't need to be embarrassed around me."

"I just... I guess my PTSD isn't totally gone, because as soon as she hit me, I just fell on the ground and curled up into a ball. It felt like I was back at that night, and I was waiting for the next hit to come when you walked in. Your voice brought me back, but I...I was still scared."

"That's not embarrassing, Blaine, that's normal. It's totally understandable. I'm very sorry that happened, though. I wish I'd have been here to help."

"You're here now. That's what matters."

Kurt placed a gentle hand on Blaine's cheek, careful to avoid the inflamed area, and coaxed Blaine to look at him again. "Are you okay now? Tell me honestly. If you're not okay, I need you to tell me so I can help you."

"I...don't know yet," Blaine said, biting his lip as he looked at Kurt.

"Do you want to go lie down?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I'm kind of tired."

"Okay. Let's go."

Kurt stood up and offered a hand to Blaine. Blaine took it, following Kurt to their bedroom. They climbed on top of the sheets and comforter, and Kurt sidled up behind Blaine to spoon him. In situations like this, Blaine just loved to feel someone behind him and to feel their arms around him to know that he was safe. Kurt was more than happy to oblige; he loved holding Blaine. It took less than ten minutes before Blaine's body relaxed and his breathing evened out for the first time that day.

Once he was sure Blaine was asleep, Kurt grabbed his pillow and placed it behind Blaine, making sure he still had a light pressure on his back before slipping out of bed and crossing over to Rachel's bedroom curtain. He called out a soft, "Knock, knock," before pulling the curtain aside and stepping in.

Rachel sat on her bed, hugging a pillow and staring off at nothing.

"Hey," Kurt said, sliding the curtain shut behind him.

Rachel looked up at him. "Is Blaine okay?"

"You got him good, but he should be fine."

"Kurt, I am _so _sorry. I don't know what came over me, what happened."

Kurt nodded, sitting on the edge of her bed. He glanced at her hands and noticed a ring on her right hand. "Your ring cut his cheekbone."

She flinched, looking down at her hands. She slipped off the ring and set it on her bedside table. "I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt him."

"I know you didn't mean to, but you did hurt him, Rachel. You need to apologize."

"Should I do it now, or wait, or...?"

"Not now. He's asleep."

"Okay."

She blinked up at him. "He's not going to be afraid of me now, is he?"

Kurt hesitated before answering. He focused on her bedding, picking at a loose thread. "He might be. For a little while."

"Oh."

"Remember when I told you about the dance at his old school? The guys that beat him up? How he sometimes had night terrors and flashbacks to it?"

"Yeah."

"That's PTSD. And he's had counseling, but he still has moments sometimes. When you hit him, he had a flashback to that night. That's why he reacted the way he did and it's why he might be scared of you for a while."

"But he's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, looking back up at her. "He's gonna be okay. He just needs a nap and to relax for a while."

"Should I leave? For when he wakes up..."

"No. You don't need to. You need to relax too, obviously, or else you wouldn't have hit Blaine."

Rachel teared up. "I am just _so _sorry, Kurt."

"I know. I know you are. Just...try to cut back on the crazy, okay? Blaine's strong, but he's not invincible. We all have our own problems. I know you have yours right now with _Funny Girl, _but the world doesn't revolve around you, Rachel, no matter how much you wish it did. We've all tried being kind and comforting for you but you can't lash out at us. This can't happen again, or I won't be so forgiving. You're my best friend, and I love you, but Blaine is my fiancé and he comes first. If I have to choose, you know who it's going to be."

"I understand," Rachel said, nodding and wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to-"

"I know. Let's not beat a dead horse, alright? Just...go make the tea I got you from the store and sit on the couch and watch a movie or something. And it can't be _Funny Girl. _Watch something else. Text Mercedes to come over and hang out with you."

"I don't need a babysitter, Kurt."

"No, but you do need someone monitoring you so what happened with Blaine this afternoon doesn't happen with anyone else. He left for two minutes to go to the bathroom and you already had a magazine article. Learn some self-control, Rach."

Kurt stood up and walked out of the room, leaving the curtain open for her to go into the living room. He slipped in between his own bedroom curtains and found Blaine exactly as he'd left him. He was careful when he crawled onto the bed again and moved the pillow out of the way, scooting up behind Blaine and returning to his earlier position.

Blaine sniffled in his sleep and shifted, glancing over his shoulder without opening his eyes. "Did you yell at her?"

Kurt chuckled. "No. You'd be very proud of me. I was calm."

"What did you tell her?"

"Don't worry about it."

"You weren't too mean, were you?"

"Blaine, she hit you."

"She didn't mean it."

"She made you cry and flashback to the most traumatic event of your life. I wasn't going to coddle her. I didn't yell, but I didn't tell her everything was okay and she didn't hurt you. I told her the truth."

"Kurt..."

"It's fine, baby. I don't want you to worry about it, okay? You just need to relax. Go back to sleep."

"I don't want her to hate me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"What if she hits me again?"

Kurt took a deep breath, calming himself and caressing his thumb over Blaine's elbow. "She's not going to hit you again. You don't have to be scared of her, okay? It's okay if you are, but you don't need to. And she's going to apologize later."

"I don't want her to hate me," Blaine repeated, rolling over to face Kurt and opening his eyes.

Kurt frowned, brushing a few stray curls away from Blaine's forehead. "She doesn't hate you; I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Maybe I shouldn't come over anymore. I just end up ruining everything and making everyone upset and-"

"Blaine," Kurt said, placing a gentle hand on Blaine's neck. "Everything is okay. No one is upset, except for me, and I'm upset with Rachel for doing this to you. Let's just go back to sleep, okay? You need to get some rest."

"How does my face look?"

Kurt looked over Blaine's cheek, giving special attention to the cut. "It looks like it'll be fine. There's a little bruising around the cut-which came from a ring Rachel was wearing, by the way-but other than that it's looking good. You'll be healed completely in a week. Two, tops."

"Okay."

Kurt leaned up just a bit to kiss next to Blaine's cut, placing his lips there lightly before pulling away. "I love you very much, Blaine. I won't let something like this happen ever again. You're safe with me, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine said again, nodding and closing his eyes. He curled up against Kurt's chest, leaning his forehead against Kurt's collarbone. "I love you too," he murmured.

Kurt cradled the back of Blaine's head with one hand and held the other arm wrapped tightly around Blaine's waist. They fell asleep together fairly quickly. And when Blaine woke Kurt up by thrashing and groaning in his sleep, pleading for people to stop and not hit him again, Kurt woke him up gently, whispering words of comfort and pulling Blaine into a tight embrace. He only held on tighter when Blaine woke up sobbing into Kurt's shirt, clutching the material in his fists.

This was something they'd just have to deal with, and Kurt knew it. Everyone had their own problems and struggles and this was Blaine's. He was always terrified that Kurt would leave him over it. That one day, Kurt would decide that enough was enough, that the night terrors and the flashbacks and the jumping at loud noises and the sudden outbursts of crying would be too much. No matter how many times Kurt reassured him, Blaine was always afraid Kurt would leave.

But he wouldn't, and he knew it. Kurt was in it for the long haul. He knew that one day, Kurt would have his own major struggles. Especially during the times of his mother's and Finn's anniversaries of death. And Blaine would be there for Kurt as he always was. Because that was what they did. They were there for each other, no matter what, for as long as they'd both live. Kurt didn't need to make that vow in front of his friends and families to honor the commitment of it.

"I'm sorry," Blaine sniffed, trying to keep his voice down because he could hear Rachel and Mercedes in the living room.

Kurt just held him tighter. "You don't need to be sorry, hon. I'm here for you. Nothing you do or say will make me love you any less."

"What about-"

"It doesn't count."

"...Okay."

They pulled away just enough to look at each other. "Blaine, I'm not going to leave you because you suffer from PTSD because of being gay bashed."

"You got bashed and you don't have PTSD."

"My experience was much different from yours, baby, and people react differently to these kinds of situations."

"Am I messed up?"

"No. You're perfect," Kurt said, kissing Blaine's forehead. "Absolutely perfect."

They settled down again, curling around each other. After a quiet moment, Blaine whispered, "I'm scared to go to sleep."

"Do you want me to sing to you?"

"Yes, please."

Kurt took a deep breath and sang, slowly and softly, _"Oh no, did I get too close? Oh, did I almost see what's really inside? All your insecurities, all the dirty laundry, never made me blink one time."_

Blaine hummed in contentment, squeezing Kurt before relaxing in his arms and settling in.

Kurt took that as a good sign and continued. _"Unconditional, unconditionally, I will love you unconditionally. There is no fear now; let go and just be free. I will love you unconditionally."_

It seemed like Blaine was dozing off, so Kurt sang through the next verse and the chorus again before kissing Blaine's temple and settling in himself. They were sleeping the whole day away, but Kurt didn't care. Whatever Blaine needed, he'd do. Because Blaine was his home and he wasn't going anywhere, no matter how difficult things got. They were more difficult when they were apart, and Kurt never wanted that for them again.

Before he drifted off, Kurt whispered the line to Blaine, in hopes that it would comfort him in his sleep. "I will love you unconditionally."


End file.
